The Scottish Play got me this week. Earlier, I posted here about how we had tickets for Macbeth--a play I've seen many times, a play I wasn't really looking forward to seeing, a play I knew I'd enjoy once we got into our seats at the Hanna in downtown Cleveland.
Our tickets were for Friday night--Friday the 13th. Seemed appropriate for a play featuring some witches, a ghost, etc.
So, yesterday afternoon (the 13th), I opened our ticket envelope, removed the tickets and the parking pass (don't ask about the cost of all this).
And saw that they were dated April 5.
What ...!?!!?
I confessed to Joyce, who took it ... well.
I then did what all guys in dotage do when they have messed up: I took a nap.
I woke up grumpy. Full of self-loathing.
But we had a wee supper, then drove down into the Cuyahoga Valley National Park to have a look at the blue herons now nesting on Bath Road. They were awesome.
Then ... up to West Market Plaza, where I bought some local honey at Mustard Seed Market before heading over to Panera to wait for Joyce, who was at TJ's in search of sheets.
We shared an orange scone. I was generous with the pieces featuring icing (her favorite).
Drove home in the gloaming.
Woke up in the middle of the night ... had I just heard witches cackle? Something about bubble and trouble and By the pricking of my thumbs / Something wicked this way comes?
Nah. Couldn't have been ...
No comments:
Post a Comment