Last night was the dress rehearsal for Metromaniacs, and it was worth the price of admission. From the gold and white of Francalou to the red cape on Damis, they went all out. There were buckles. So many buckles. Everybody had buckles except for Mondor, who was a filthy servant and didn’t deserve any.

The problem with working backstage is that I can’t see a proper performance, and that made me sad. The performances were very physical, especially the women. Lucille posed across the stage like an Instagram model, and Lisette imitated her, but I’d only seen them do it in twenty-first-century clothes. In fluffy Sun King dresses, I’m sure it was a sight to behold.

I was there for a reason, though, and Maddy walked me through this. There wasn’t much. I will mostly be sitting in the back, reading my proofs on my phone, and waiting for the very few things I need to do.

First, we had to check the props table, with the fake quill pens and the feather fan and the hat Yankee Doodle named Macaroni. Everything was in its exact space and labeled, and the cast tended to leave them right where they belonged, so after initial setup, we only straighten them out for the next show.

Next, we plug in the running lights and the backstage blue lamp, so nobody breaks a leg. Next, we prop open the secret door so cast members doing costume changes don’t get locked out. Next, we set the trumpet. Next, we reset the beanbag boulder for the first act.

The next thing we have to do is retrieve the weasel. Lucille tosses it backward, over the curtain, where it lands right in the path of the actors’ mid-stage exit. If we don’t want anybody to break a leg, we have to grab that right away.

We hit a wall during the quick change at the end of act one. I observed so I can try it out tonight, but Maddy, the professional, dove right in. In less than two minutes, Lisette needs to drop her drab, black maid’s dress and step into a royal pink one. The problem was that the maid’s dress had a corset, and corsets are shifty.

Every time Maddy and Lucille thought they had loosened it, they found themselves struggling with more string. The play had to be paused to figure this out. The fancy dress, petticoats, and wig went right on with no opposition. Tomorrow, Maddy and I are going to practice unlacing a corset, which I haven’t done since I was married.

And finally, in the second act, we have to grab Macaroni when Dorant flings it, not because we don’t want people to break a leg, but we didn’t want anyone to smash that delightful product of haberdashery.

That was it. We left everything where we it started, unplugged the lights, reset the weasel, and headed home in the freezing cold.

There is an issue, though. I’ve been getting home three or four hours past my bedtime and waking up at my normal ungodly hour. A sudden disruption of sleep patterns can trigger a manic episode. I should have called my doctor, I said, lamenting that I have to call my doctor to work with the community theater.

All I can do is continue to have fun and hope for the best. I need stimulation! I need excitement! I need one of those fake quills.