Who knew it was that easy?

I very much enjoy the theater, despite the fact that I don’t go often. For the last year or so, Wicked has been performing at the Pantages Theater in LA. Every time I hear a commercial, I think about going, but hello? Economy these days? Yeah, not exactly within my budget. Especially when there are other things that I’d rather buy for myself. Like this mixer (Honey, are you reading this?!) or this lens.

And then today, I heard the commercial again. You know, the show is ending soon and leaving LA forever. Now’s the last chance. (They’ve been saying that for the last ten months, but I’m starting to think they’re serious this time.)

I thought I’d just take a quick peek, see if there were any tickets still available (the cheap ones, of course). I kept thinking about how nice it would be to pick a day in December, fight the traffic take a nice drive up to LA, see the show, maybe have dinner. You know… the holidays, a little romance, all that crap.

Then I went to click on “buy tickets” and suddenly that little voice inside my head (who, I strongly believe, is on my husband’s payroll) began to harp on me about the money. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, he said, that husband of yours is going to be mighty disappointed.

And then I recalled the e-mail said Husband sent me yesterday regarding my slightly lower-than-normal paycheck and how can we save money if you don’t make any?

Scrooge.

So, with one long, heavy sigh, I closed the internet and sat staring at my computer screen with disappointment. Stupid economy. Stupid need to save money. Stupid Husband for wanting to buy a house. Stupid fear of getting laid off. The whole world’s against me.

As I began to get a nice, warm buzz of irritation, I opened my e-mail and wrote to my husband.

“Can I buy tickets to Wicked?” In my head I was thinking just say no, I dare you.

His response? “Sure. How much are they? Let’s go on a Sunday and spend the night in Hollywood. Look for a hotel room.”

I frowned at my computer, because surely it’s playing a prank on me. Maybe someone had hacked into the Husband’s e-mail. Because, not only was it surprising enough that he was going to let me spend THE MONEY, but he suggested we go on a SUNDAY. Um, hello? FOOTBALL? My husband does NOT MISS FOOTBALL.

But, Internet? Was I going to argue? I’m smarter than that.

I now have in my possession two tickets to Wicked and a hotel reservation. I haven’t talked him into dinner yet, but I can wait till he’s good and drunk before I do that.

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