I'm with Mr. Schmader: The Mistakes Madeline Made, currently at Washington Ensemble Theater, is great.

[Mistakes] is brought to brilliant life by director Michael Place, an ace five-person cast, and the show's designers, who deliver across-the-board excellence, from Rob Witmer's sharp, sprightly sound design to Christine Tschirgi's impeccable costuming. But as with any thoroughly successful production, the majority of props shall be dumped on the cast, which is uniformly stellar. Earning individual name-checks: Mary Bliss Mather, who fleshes out her Suzanne Bouchardian role—a brittle perfectionist heading a team of personal assistants—with wit and brains and executes it with relish; Ray Tagavilla, who carefully wends his way through a kooky-character role that could have been oppressively Mork-y; and Elise Hunt as our troubled female protagonist, who holds the whole odd and wonderful construct together, figuring out her 21st-century shit before our eyes while getting literally and figuratively funky.

One of the remarkable things about the play is how deftly it avoids stupidity in handling characters that seem bound for triteness: the (dead) brother who's a war veteran, the super-uptight office coworker lady, the Aspergian coworker guy, the despondent-and-thus-slutty main character. It's genuinely affecting, all of it; even the thematic use of Handiwipes, which just seems doomed to heavy-handedness, works pretty much beautifully.

Over in comments over on Mr. Schmader's review, there's interesting contention about the quality of the script (by a New York writer), what constitutes risk-taking in theater, and the meaning of forgiveness. You should go see the play, and see for yourself.