Because today I am thankful for perspective.
The other day, there was a pre-sale for tickets to a concert I declared on Facebook to be a "MUST." I think I said something about how my 16-year-old self would kick my butt if I didn't go. I woke up on Wednesday and got on the computer about a half hour later than the tickets went on sale (because daughters need breakfast and sons need pants), and I saw there were some available, and I breathed a giant sigh of relief, only to begin the 40 minute task of clicking the Get Tickets button from hell. Again, and again, and again. Each time, I got the message that there were no tickets in my cart, no, none. I went on Twitter (in between refreshes) to see if I was the only one having the problem, and found that most people were getting the same message, but they only needed to hit refresh, and then tickets would come up, and they would buy them, and then move on with their day, a couple of Radiohead tickets richer.
My sister even called me when I whined (a little) on Facebook about it, to tell me I was probably just doing it wrong, and she got them without an issue, and her friend just got tickets five minutes after I posted, so just keep trying. And I got a tiny teeny weeny insy bit peeved, because I WAS DOING IT RIGHT AND WHAT THE HECK DID THE UNIVERSE HAVE AGAINST ME GETTING TICKETS TO A CONCERT OF A BAND THAT NEVER COMES TO ARIZONA AND I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO SEE MY ENTIRE MUSICALLY-AWARE LIFE. But you know, I just kept my cool, and hit refresh.
And then I got the message. The one that had been waiting patiently for me all morning. The one the universe was keeping in its shirt pocket the whole time it was telling me to pick a hand (the dirty sneak). Sold. Out.
And I made a couple of really firm frowny faces, and said, okay, I will try again Saturday. I WILL go to this concert. They were the soundtrack to my teenage existence. (Well, okay Oasis was, if we're being honest, but Radiohead was a close second, and everybody knows Oasis mostly just spit all over her audience anyway.)
But today, I got to really thinking about it. My husband works 40 hours a week at a job that doesn't pay him enough, and every other night, he is at school until well past bedtime. He has literal bruises on his arms from selling plasma so we can get Harrison a winter coat, and I am working a ca-rappy job from home to cover Christmas. We are in absolutely NO (as Harrison would say, "No way, no how, not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin") position to be spending any amount of money on a concert ticket. I'm pretty sure the kids and Eric would organize an Occupy Mom's Side of the Couch in protest. And they'd probably be playing radiohead songs on the ipod, and the headline would read "Family Crushed By Too Many Layers of Irony."
So, today, I got perspective. And a solid appreciation for Divine Intervention. And, I'll bet, two tickets to any movie I want to see on March 15th, because Eric is probably going to need to distract me from thinking about it.