- 8:30 The show we planned to attend officially began.
- 8:39 I (hair damp from a recent shower and firmly ensconced in my pajamas) recalled that we were planning to attend said show.
- 8:40-8:41 I expressed my frustration and exasperation at this lack of good planning and forethought in a heartfelt and vigorous sort of way while dashing downstairs to The Boy’s office to inform him of the situation.
- 8:41-8:42 The Boy joined in this expression of dismay with equal fervor, and, after careful consideration, we decided to see if we could set the land speed record for rolling out of the house.
- 8:42-8:50 Various preparations and ablutions ensued, the details of which are certainly not of interest to anyone.
- 8:50 We blasted out of the house, tires squealing and plumes of smoke billowing in our wake.
- 9:10 We slipped in the door and claimed the last two seats at the bar just in time to catch the end of the opening act.
The dash was to see the Dirt Daubers, and it was well worth it (just go ahead and listen to Get Out of My Way now and try not to have it in your head all day, I dare you). There may well already be plans in the works to see them again in the very near future. Really though, that makes three shows and two trips and one preorder shipping extravaganza in the space of ten days, and I could really use a nap. A nap, and possibly a bit of knitting. A nap, a bit of knitting, and a large pitcher of iced tea. If one of you could sort that out I’d appreciate it.
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