There's so much to tell you.
Last night, Mike took me to the Lindsey Stirling and Evanescence concert. It was almost completely awesome.
There was a couple that sat a couple of rows in front of us that vaped a thick cloud around at least eight of us near them.
If I'm going to smell smoke, it had better smell like burning wood or cigarettes.
Yes, I like the smell of cigarettes. Three of my grandparents smoked and so that smell, for me, was about love, eating pie, and camping.
But I do not like the faint odor of tobacco with raspberry overtones. I do not like cotton candy combined with nicotine. Or whatever.
If I'm going to get high, I want it to be a choice.
Yup, I got high last night. I felt mostly normal watching Lindsey Stirling dancing back and forth on the stage and playing her violin. It was amazing. She can play a tune while doing a layback and a high kick. I can't walk and text at the same time. I loved it.
But then, Evanescence began to play and I became hypnotized by the light show. I leaned my head on Mike's shoulder and pulled up my hood. I wasn't exactly dizzy, just .....
... you know when the Universe opens up for you a little bit, when things seem to be more cosmic, private messages just for you embedded into a light show.
It sounds great, doesn't it?
It was great, mostly. I listened with Mike. I held his hand. I thought about making a meaningful life. My eyes could not break from the lights on the stage. I forgot to sing along.
And then, it was over and the cotton candy cloud lifted as people stood up after the encore and all the bowing on stage.
Step were a challenge. Following behind people at the right distance was a challenge. The ladies room was too bright, too loud. I wanted to steal someone's blanket and cuddle up with Mike in a dark corner.
And then I got a bad case of the munchies. Thank God, we had some chili cheese Fritos left in the picnic I'd packed for the trip. Then, we watched tailgater partiers dance as we waited in our car for the traffic to clear. We talked. Meaning of life. We laughed.
Suddenly, Mike and I were a couple of kids in college and years of our mostly sober view of life, warts and all, fell away.
We got home at 1:30 in the morning. I had to work this morning. At dawn, warts reappeared. I had to look showered, to act rested, to be patient, to teach children. I had to pretend to be responsible.
I was totally unqualified to face my day.
Thank you for listening, jules