You can imagine my grief as I found out we were not going to perform that day. Well, maybe grief isn't the right word. It was a strange mixture of agonising pain mixed with an overwhelming sense of euphoria. It hit me like a ton of steel bricks that I had spent the whole day practically in the foetal position, rocking back and forth over nothing, yet it took my mind a while to jog up to itself and hand it some common sense. Common sense explained in a simple and easy to learn way that seeing as I was not prepared, fate was giving me an extra week of practise. I nearly kissed common sense, though seizing some sort of composure I merely shook him by the hand and bid him a "Good day". I then spent the rest of the day half watching the first performers wearily walk in front of the class, and half cackling to myself that I had more time to prepare. Though they did good. They had seized their time and used it fast an effectively to create an outstanding result. My mind once again started working in overtime. I had to study them, find their weaknesses and see how I could build from them. It was as though we were all in the running to create the next Broadway hit, and fate be damned if I was going to lose!
So yes, it was a fairly stressful day. I spent the rest of my night spouting names of random playwrights in a maniacal fashion, and explaining to anyone who would listen about how the flashing lights on phones controlled my heartbeat. Needless to say I'm no longer working at that childcare centre, but I got my message heard!