Hard Knock Life for me!

I went to see the musical Annie past Saturday at the Savannah Childrens Theater with a friend.  It was a favorite from my childhood and something that I regularly tortured my parents with.  I am surprised at how easily I could recall the lyrics to those songs.  “Hard Knock Life,” was just as enjoyable to me now as it was then.  And now that I’ve heard it again, it’s stuck in my head and shows no signs of leaving.

During the intermission I waited in the bathroom line of 30 women deep plus their children.  A lady was in front of me dressed in a snow white outfit and her little blonde daughter of maybe eight years old, was wearing a matching outfit.  I was a little jealous.  I want to wear a princess dress and giant bows in my hair for no other reason than the fun of it!  To me this is the one good argument for having kids.  You get to have a second childhood.

Although I did enjoy it, by the time Annie finally ended I had heard “Tomorrow,” enough times to last me the rest of my life; and also my butt was numb.  The show was two hours long and it was the second one they put on that day!  I could only wonder at what times the cast member were getting to bed.  At least it wasn’t a school night.

I have to say I felt proud of myself for doing something besides just going to a bar and drinking too much.  I felt that the ticket price of $20 was a bit steep but the cheapness of snacks, (most being only a dollar) helped to make up for this.

In the song “Hard Knock Life,” they talk about being hungry and cold all the time and getting kicked instead of kisses.  I can identify with this because of my recent ordeal that left me without any hot water, working stove or  heat.  I did not, however, get kicked or kissed by anyone.

Basically my entire apartment ran off gas and I didn’t know.  I thought it was only the stove and for some reason that stove was on when I moved in. I just decided to go with it and hope that no one noticed.  Last Thursday someone noticed and cut me off. I didn’t think too much of this because I rarely cook anything.  But when I got home I noticed that the thermostat says 61 degrees.  Then I try to take a shower and it quickly moves from luke warm to freezing ass cold.  I jumped out still half covered with soap, sticky with ice cubes forming on my nipples.

I packed a bag and escaped to the warm refuge of my boyfriends attic room for the night. I didn’t know it would turn into five nights!  It took that long for me to get an appointment with the gas company.  So basically I lived in his upstairs room and came home to my frozen apartment to get more clothes each day.  One day I got sick of all the back and forth and attempted a shower.

Bad idea.  I think I nearly gave myself hypothermia.  I thought it would be okay if I prepared myself mentally first and got really hot.  I wasn’t ready.  I guess I’ll never be able to join the Polar Bear Club.  Damn.

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