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Taking Stock: Checking the Date

At about six o'clock yesterday evening, I received an email from a friend who is closing off one Web log and setting up another. He had a few things on his mind, but even before I got past his second sentence, I decided to write back to say that I would have to wait to answer his letter until tomorrow - today - because I was "off to the theatre." The moment I wrote that, I felt a little chill. So often, it seems, I have only to announce plans in a letter or an entry for the plans to fall apart.

It was only after I'd gotten dressed for the evening that I rooted out the tickets in the ticket drawer. The ticket drawer is a bordel at the moment, but I found what I was looking for: two seats at MTC for Blackbird. Because of that chill that I'd felt before dressing, I forced myself to search out the date. And the date was not yesterday's date. It was next Wednesday's date.

Kathleen, who had taken an unscheduled day off - she had finished one of many projects and decided to celebrate by doing something about her exhaustion (ie, sleeping), was delighted. She had not started to get dressed. I got back into regular clothes as quickly as I could and was soon back in my chair, reading Robert Stone's A Hall of Mirrors. I suppose I ought to have gone to my desk and read my friend's email, but I somehow shared Kathleen's sense of reprieve. A night off!

I don't feel as foolish as I might. Assiduous readers will recall the night last August when I thought we had tickets for The Drowsy Chaperone. It was only when I got to the seats and found them occupied that I checked my dates. I was a week early then, too - so much better than a week late. That was the night that I surprised Kathleen by a) not having a fit and b) insisting that we check out nearby theatres. We ended up laughing the evening away at Avenue Q.


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