Open Wardrobes

So. Yeah. The Fringe lottery. Well, there were winners and losers. Some celebrated their inclusion, others despaired at being cast under the wheels of the Bingo Cage of Fate. That was me. I sat, breathless, as they called each number for the lottery. Each one not me. They then started to pull the order for the wait list and I was still hopeful that I would be close to the top, hopeful that I would only have to wait a little longer until someone dropped off and I was awarded their place instead...


That was not to be. I stuck around long enough to see myself end up #53 on the waiting list. Not an impossible distance away from making it in, but by no means a sure thing. So now I am left to mull over my options: Hope for a spot on the wait list, try for a bring-your-own-venue spot, or forgo the Fringe and look for a different venue entirely. Soon, perhaps, I will be ready to tackle that question, to roll up my sleeves and work on Plan B, but for now I am allowing myself at least a day or two to wallow in disappointment, downing my sorrows in a cup of Scottish Breakfast (that's a tea).


It was for days such as this that "meh" was officially added to the dictionary.