Saturday Night

In an attempt to have a life and not feel ancient, I went out tonight. I realize that, to some people, going out is a fairly run of the mill happening, but for me, it's pretty rare. Tonight, I went with some of my oldest and dearest friends to see the Indigo Girls, which was big fun. Upon learning that two of my other friends were going to be playing a later show together, I decided to make it a double-header,and I even talked the Man into meeting me out. This was an epic feat, because if there's anyone who likes staying home more than I do, it's the Man. In fact, out mutual hermit-like leanings may be part of what keeps us together. Complicating matters was the fact that I've since Tuesday. In fact, my fever only broke this morning, and I'm pretty sure it spiked again during the first show of the night. No matter, I was going to tough it out no matter what, and then go be supportive of my friends, as well. The second venue was pretty loud. The first band we'd come to hear played, and I successfully battled the urge to sit down and put my head on the table. I got a chance to hang out with the Man, and chat with our friends between sets, and it was nice. But as the second band got a little way into their set, I started feeling rather unwell, and thinking that I really needed to go home and lie down. The problem was, I was standing right next to the musician friend's wife, of whom I am extremely fond, and I felt rather losery, ducking out after only 3 or 4 songs. I mean, sheesh, what am I, some old lady who can't even hang past midnight any more, and who thinks the music's too loud? Thinking these sorts of self deprecating thoughts, I turned to her and tried to think of a graceful exit line. She leaned toward me and said, "I'm not going to make it much longer! It's so loud, and I'm really tired." So I guess the moral of the story is, the great thing about getting older is that my friends are apparently doing it too.