Rush who?
A few months ago, I was so blind with such abundant love for my husband that when he asked, “Do you want to go to the Rush concert with me? You HAVE to go. It will be fun,” I foolheartedly agreed. Being the good little wifey, I took his word for it.
When Mike and I first met, I had never even heard of Rush. While I didn’t delight over their music when first it entered my ears, I also didn’t recoil with disgust. It was a luke-warm glass of water, when all I needed was something ice cold. Meh.
So, tonight is the concert, and what Mike neglected to tell me was that the concert is in Saratoga Springs — FOUR HOURS FROM HERE. To be fair, he didn’t realize it was so far until our friend Grant pointed that out on Saturday. I’ve tried to weasel my way out of it, but I’m trapped going since Mike bought the tickets a long time ago. Never mind that they cost EIGHTY DOLLARS a seat. Eighty dollars to see a band that, to my knowledge, didn’t exist 6 years ago?!? That’s highway robbery! AND I have to leave work at 1:00 so we can make it there in time. Lord knows what time we’ll be stumbling to bed since Mike tells me that their concerts run at least 3 hours. So maybe I don’t mind leaving work, but I’m still not thrilled about the prospect of 8 hours in the car to see a concert I’m only half interested in seeing. Sorry Mike — I love you, honey.
So pass me that luke-warm glass of water, but please, put some ice cubes in it.
