My sister Lydia and I are moving into my brother's old room, the big blue room. It's a mess. Lydia and I had been sleeping on stage, our heads of the beds nearest the audience, so we saw the back of the stage. We slept in twin beds side by side. Now I am sweeping the boys' room which is an extension of the stage area. There are two big windows, lots of dirt and grime on the wall under the windows. I sweep and sweep and notice some burnt logs from a fire. I put the logs in a fireplace "closet." The place hasn't ever looked this clean. I decide it would be nice to remodel the fireplace into a closet to put clothes. I can't decide whether to keep the beds where they are or to put them in the alcove with the windows. I decide to put them in the alcove, even as I decide to feel some regret over not being on stage. Then I decide that area can be our play area. We can divide it in half: half hers, half mine. I go out into the audience area. I ask someone if it will be too expensive making the fireplace into a closet. They say no. I guess it's OK. Someone says, "You really looked scared when the play started, but it was good, it worked with the lines." I said, "I really was scared!" They said, "I'll never forget how you said the first line, something like, "After all --- ain't it like the boys."