Elf's Diary Blog Entry #13 - The Worry Dishwasher
It's 23:49. I'm in my old room, surrounded by my puppetts and bookshelves. My bedroom is being pummelled from 3 sides by the wind. It sounds as if a Ghost is going 'BOO' into the windows - a garish white noise sound. I've completely lost my voice - the irony of getting the Flu before Duck Flu opens tomorrow is only mildly amusing. I've been sweating the fever out whilst listening to Stuart Goldsmith's Comedians podcast and rolling around on the floor doodling in one of the many sketch pads we have piled around the house. Goldsmith's interview with Adrienne Truscott (a hero of mine) from June 2014 was very stimuating to listen to whilst trying to recuperate in my whale bath. I'd highly recommend it. Today was another day at home with the parents and another day proving the fact they are going through their official mutation from functioning adults to full blown avant garde Tenebaums.
Before I came in here to write I popped into their 'quarters' to sit at the end of their bed and talk to them about my thoughts and feelings. Also, I wanted to show them how good I've gotten at Yoga (I'm normally the clumsy one in the family so I'm really proud of my mastering of 'TREE POSE').
Both of them were sat up in their bed on opposing sides, both in their clashing dressing gowns. Both with tea and seperate ipads on their laps. They kept on laughing, but I had no idea at what. Dad kept on giggling and Mum kept on shouting "Are you having a breakdown?" - then they would repeat. I sat bemused (they really seemed non-plussed by my Tree Pose). My mum's collectable Star Trek stamps were proudly framed on her side-drawer next to her bed (guess which awesome daughter got her that present eh???).
My mums smells like Turkish delight, whilst my dad has the comforting smell of biscuits. Clearly this is something that happens when you get older - you start to smell like your go-to confectionary. I like it. I have a feeling David Hockney would enjoy painting them. They are like two sides of the same coin. Joined, but incapable of seeing the other persons point of view. Tormented soul mates. It's very funny to watch. My mum's new idea is that my dad is on the spectrum for autism and thus has been reading off an array of 'traits' from a website off her ipad. She and I agreed that dad adhered to most of the indicators she'd read out- however, mum then realised she was on the page 'Signs your toddler has autism'. I did think the point 'He won't enjoy playing with others and sharing his toys' seemed odd. This was my cue to come back to my room and commence with the blog.
It's one sleep until the opening night of DUCK FLU. Goodness it's come quickly! Well, we did only start rehearsing on the 9th. Talk about a quick-bloody-turn-around. My mum and I have been building a collection of props for me to lug up to London tomorrow morning with the help of the one-armed-bandit (our nickname for my dad since he broke his arm trying to rescue some sheep). We've got the machete, fake gun and the fake blood, all we need now are the recreational drugs for the 'Death Drawer' in Act 1.
My mother is still trying to work out why I've been, in her words, 'so mysteriously quiet'.
"Has someone stolen your hat?"
"Is someone following you?"
"Are you getting hate mail again?"
"Are you sure you are not heartbroken?"
"Mum, I am fine. I am just busy."
"Remember Emilymilemily I love you and I will sort whatever it is out. Give me your worries, I'll put them on a plate and I'll stick them in the dishwasher"
"I have my own dishwasher for my worries, Mum"
"Well have you checked it is draining properly? Maybe you've not loaded your plates properly? Sometimes you need an INDUSTRIAL dishwasher Emilymilemily. Don't be like your father, he does put his worries on a plate, but then he hides them under the sofa and I only realise he has them when they start to smell. Then it's a lot of scrubbing before I can put them in and clean them for good."
"Your metaphors are very well thought through Mum"
"I love you too darling".
"I love you too mum"