Finally. Presale tickets for BNL at Mohegan Sun on December 2nd went on sale. I got my set yesterday and Tree's will go on sale later today, so I'll nab hers too and life is good. Right now, we're going to see them on December 2nd at Mohegan with Tree and Powder, and I do believe my 2nd seat is being taken by K's mom, because she said her husband can score us discounted rooms at Mohegan Sun IN the casino, because he's like a wheeler dealer poker guy... we shall see. We could end up staying at the nearby no tell motel, but regardless, it'll be fun. And the night before, on December 1st, K's mom, K, Jessie and I are seeing them in Portland.
I think we'll get a room for the overnight, and I'll have Doug be on boy duty in the morning. I'll keep the girl out of school and then take the day off on the 2nd to ready-up for the trip to Mohegan, AND make Jessie do dishes or something in exchange for the day off. Mwah ha ha.
So yeah, yesterday around 4:30 I found my key. It had fallen out of my pants and into the crack in the floor in front of the dryer. What a freaking nightmare that was. I had looked and looked there... but for some reason didn't see it. Lighting, dilligence, attention to detail, all these things were factors. And I found it. And I kicked myself and got the huge "You do this ALL the TIME" lecture from the husband. Yes, I do, if you think once a year is all the time.
But it is one too many times in the past five. I think I need to have the key surgically implanted (in my ass?!) so this doesn't happen again.
I did manage to get a crazy amount of work done here though. Between floorplans for the office and cleaning while looking for the key, hell yeah. I was one sassy and productive babe yesterday. And if losing a key has to make that happen, well... then it was a good thing. Right?
Not to be ... morbid or anything, but I was thinking a lot about the pleasure cruise boat that sank on Lake George yesterday while I was working, and I couldn't help but think of Bob Dylan's Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre... wowee. Pretty Scary. And I was laughing and thinking about the song, which is pretty amusing, and about Dylan and his Woodie Guthrie-esque period and how much I prefer just him and a guitar. And I started thinking about all the old people on that tour boat.
What a horrid way to go. I feel horribly for the people who drowned, and this is the kind of thing that goes through my mind when I'm on the Ferry to Long Island. What if this ferry starts going down? What if I'm wearing my life jacket, but I can't get out of the boat? What if I can't find my kids? Gah. And then I got sick to my stomach because it's not funny or amusing or kind of wacky anymore.
I'm getting old. Back in the day I would have just shaken this off, thought nothing of it. But I thought "dude, that could so have been my in-laws, because this is the kind of thing that they go on when they go touring around the country..." I couldn't imagine having to show up in NY state somewhere at Bear Mountain or Lake George or whatever to claim their bodies.
I guess it's time to shower and get ready for work. Lots to do today at the ole office. This is the week before the next cycle starts so it is guaranteed to once again make my head explode and stress me out beyond belief. Pass the gin and tonic please.
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