Saturday, 11:52pm. Returning home from a great evening. Quietly sipping tea. And well aware of plans to meet at 7am to check out the new SF Flea Market Sunday morning . . .
But, I've skipped ahead of my story . . .
*cinematic blurring of focus*
*a lush melody line from an oboe begins to play*
*flashback to earlier in the afternoon*
Saturday, approximately 2pm. Noticed on Twitter that my dear friend bemoaned the fact that she had missed getting tickets to see "Psycho."
Saturday, approximately 2:02pm. Quick google search - seems like SF Symphony was having a one night showing of "Psycho" featuring live accompaniment.
well, it seems like I was going to miss it as well.
Saturday, approximately 4:24pm. Notice a missed call/voicemail from the aforementioned friend asking if I had plans for the evening. (I knew she had just returned from vacation, and assumed dinner and gossiping might be in order.)
and no, as a matter of fact, I didn't have any plans for tonight.
Saturday, approximately 4:25pm. Returned the aforementioned missed phone call only to find out that another of her friends saw her message. And had tickets to "Psycho" that they weren't using. And did I want to go with her?
Did I wanna go?!?!?!?!?
Saturday, approximately 8:01pm. Sitting in Daives Symphony Hall. In the most excellent loggia seats. Hearing the orchestra tuning up. Seeing everyone settling into their seats. Watching the lights go down.
"No, don't stop at the hotel. KEEP DRIVING ! ! ! ! ! ! "
Let's see how well I sleep tonight,
ps. Should I have called this post - "Chills and Cellos?" or maybe "Violins and Violence?"