Stress

Last week I won tickets to see a play through KINK, the radio station that I listen to when I listen to the radio and not my brand new IPod that my wonderful husband bought me for Valentine's Day (just had to add that). I had to reschedule one of my home visits in order to go to the play.

I picked Paul up from work last night, drove to the MAX and took the train into town. When we got there, I realized that I'd left the tickets in the car. I almost started crying, but since my husband is the clear thinking one of the bunch, we went to the PCPA (Portland Center for the Performing Arts) to see what they could do for us. When I got there and told them that I was an idiot and that I'd left the tickets in the car, the woman looked me up on the computer.

"That's not your only problem," she told me.

"Why?" I asked, thinking that there were no more seats.

"Because your tickets were for yesterday's performance," she replied.

OK, so I'm a little stressed out about this grad school thing and can't remember anything. I was trying to tell Paul a story last night and forgot half of my vocabulary. I honestly couldn't remember the word "offended."

In the end, the woman gave us new tickets. That was sweet of her. If she hadn't it wouldn't have been a big deal, I would've felt just as stupid as always. The play was funny. It was called "The Intelligent Design of Jenny Chow." If it ever comes to your area, go see it. I reccommend it. And if I reccommend it, then you know it's good shit.

So today is the day. After today I will stop being a stressed out crazy bitch.
OK, well, that was a flat out lie, but I'll say anything right now if it means I'll get into grad school.