Way back in the fall of 2019, as I was on my way to the coffee pot for my first cup of Joe, the local TV station announced that James Taylor, with "special guest" Jackson Browne, was coming to town in July 2020. My birthday is in July, and I love James Taylor's music. We've been to several of his concerts. I love Jackson Browne's music, too, but have never seen him in concert. Though I generally do not speak until I've had at least a sip of coffee, I turned to The Husband and said, "That would make a great birthday present for me."
He bought the tickets.
By July, the concert was cancelled because of covid. It was re-booked for August 2021.
Even though we've had our vaccinations, I was reluctant to go. So many people packed together so closely seemed like a recipe for viral disaster. A few weeks ago, I asked The Husband to see if he could get a refund, but by the time he got around to checking for a refund, it was too late. I might not have gone, anyway, if he had not showed me the seating chart; he'd bought tickets on the floor, center stage, just 5 rows back from the stage. Paid an arm and a leg for them.
I started hunting N95 masks. Both my brother and my niece offered two masks from their stash. As it turned out, we found two in our cabinet that we'd bought for doing yard work but had never used.
The concert was awesome. I just hope it doesn't kill us.
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