I Don't Do Concerts
Been a busy few days. This morning I dropped the Kid off, did some Zumba and then worked on reorganizing the kitchen. It looks a lot better and I threw out about 4 big garbage bags of crap. This time off is a great opportunity to tackle big projects I have been putting off forevah! My other big task this week is to paint the doors in the apartment. They be brown, they be ugly, they be painted white! Tomorrow I will pick up a bucket of paint and then Thursday will be painting day! I cannot wait to get started and well, to actually finish because the process actually sucks.
On Friday we had yet another appointment at the ear doctor for the Kid. Attempt number 2 at a hearing test. Yeah, that didn't happen. After the failed test attempt, we met with the doctor and once again his ears had fluid. I swear, the doctor made it sound like our fault. I wanted to say "Well, geez, I guess we shouldn't have let him go pearl diving yesterday. Our bad." ugh. So we have yet another appointment in June when hopefully his ears no longer have fluid and he magically sits still and does the hearing test. oh hahaha. Right.
Friday night was Bon Jovi. A friend babysat and off we went to the concert. Now, I don't do concerts. I was told at a young age that concerts were deadly and I would be crushed. This piqued my curiosity when I was 7. But as I aged, I also realised that hanging out in a field with a mass of people was not something on my bucket list. I get claustrophobic in H & M. My first ever concert was Roxette last year and it was a positive, indoor experience. I decided to surprise the Husband with tickets to Bon Jovi and stupidly assummed that the concert would be inside. So did the Husband so we both are dumbasses. 50, 000 people. Thank God for having bought seats but I won't lie, everytime the blasted stands shifted ever so much I kept thinking, Gonna die, gonna die. The concert started and so did the rain and that was just awesome because I did not dress accordingly. I dressed like I was going to a Norah Jones concert in a small and cozy venue. My bad. The rain kept coming and the Husband was sweet and lent me his jacket where I hid under it for the majority of the concert, only coming up for air briefly to yell "Beer Guy! Hey! Beer Guy!". We left a little bit earlier and because porta potties are not something I do, my kidneys almost exploded. The Husband found a a bridge to hide under and relieve himself and suggested I do the same to which I responded "I do not pee in a city outside. I do not pee in a porta potty. I do not like green eggs and ham."
So that was the exciting concert. Next time, um, who am I kidding, there will be no next time... ever.
On Friday we had yet another appointment at the ear doctor for the Kid. Attempt number 2 at a hearing test. Yeah, that didn't happen. After the failed test attempt, we met with the doctor and once again his ears had fluid. I swear, the doctor made it sound like our fault. I wanted to say "Well, geez, I guess we shouldn't have let him go pearl diving yesterday. Our bad." ugh. So we have yet another appointment in June when hopefully his ears no longer have fluid and he magically sits still and does the hearing test. oh hahaha. Right.
Friday night was Bon Jovi. A friend babysat and off we went to the concert. Now, I don't do concerts. I was told at a young age that concerts were deadly and I would be crushed. This piqued my curiosity when I was 7. But as I aged, I also realised that hanging out in a field with a mass of people was not something on my bucket list. I get claustrophobic in H & M. My first ever concert was Roxette last year and it was a positive, indoor experience. I decided to surprise the Husband with tickets to Bon Jovi and stupidly assummed that the concert would be inside. So did the Husband so we both are dumbasses. 50, 000 people. Thank God for having bought seats but I won't lie, everytime the blasted stands shifted ever so much I kept thinking, Gonna die, gonna die. The concert started and so did the rain and that was just awesome because I did not dress accordingly. I dressed like I was going to a Norah Jones concert in a small and cozy venue. My bad. The rain kept coming and the Husband was sweet and lent me his jacket where I hid under it for the majority of the concert, only coming up for air briefly to yell "Beer Guy! Hey! Beer Guy!". We left a little bit earlier and because porta potties are not something I do, my kidneys almost exploded. The Husband found a a bridge to hide under and relieve himself and suggested I do the same to which I responded "I do not pee in a city outside. I do not pee in a porta potty. I do not like green eggs and ham."
So that was the exciting concert. Next time, um, who am I kidding, there will be no next time... ever.
Comments
Post a Comment