This week I learned another expensive lesson. I had originally bought tickets to see Michael Franti & Spearhead at Summer Stage in Central Park before I got my job, so I figured mid-week concert in NYC? No problem. After I got the job I took a day and a half, planning to go last year, when last minute it was cancelled. When the reschedule date came in for June 28th of this year I was disappointed, but didn't jump on the refund window of 30 days so took the day and a half off again, booked a hotel this time, and had every intention of going.

Except that since I've now been working for a year and a half, and spent half a year in my own apartment, juggling apartment duties, my parent's obsessive need to see me almost every weekend, and general malaise and lack of sleep in the summer from the heat and humidity, I woke up Wednesday and knew there was no way I'd make it. The hotel cancellation window had also passed at that point, so I ate the cost of the ticket and hotel, and have to admit something.

No more NYC concerts, which makes me very sad. If I'd still been living in the city I would have made it, even if not feeling my best, since it would just be a bus ride crosstown and short walk to the venue, maybe 30 minutes tops. From here it's 2 hours on the train, probably 30-45 minutes to the hotel, lugging a bag the whole way, then another 30 to the venue, have a blast at the concert, then reverse all of that. I'm too old to commit months ahead that I'll be reliably able to do that.

When I was 24, no problem. Even at 34 I probably could have done it once in a while. But at 44 I have to wave the white flag. I could say that I don't mind, but I'd be lying; the best I can do is say that I hope some day I'm okay with that. And not schedule any more concerts in the city.