I am lost in such a haze of sequins and feathers, I can only assume I am in heaven. I didn’t think my feet would throb like this in heaven, but I also hadn’t counted on tap dancing in fishnets, either. There are stage lights here, and someone tells me when I have a half-hour left before I need to be on stage. But time travels strangely here. A half-hour seems to be no time at all.
I think I may be being punished for my sins in life while I wear the heavenly wig. I keep getting things thrown at me. Like giant silver pans. And I keep being asked to dance on golden chairs. I wonder if the golden chair is a test to see if I am worthy to sit at the round table with King Arthur. Or perhaps I am being prepared for a new version of the last supper, this time with tap shoes and better costumes.
I have been granted wings of great feathers for my head, but none for my arms. Perhaps heaven has had budget cuts and angels are now only permitted one wing. I hope I can learn to fly with my giant sparkly headdress. But for now, I will hope to not be kicked in the face or fall into the music pit, which is hell.
Wish me well, dear readers, as I continue to struggle toward the heaven that is a clean and beautiful show.
Kisses from tech week,