This week I learned to never, ever doubt my husband.
Not that I normally do. Dude is awesome, an absolute prince and I'm damn lucky to have him. But several months ago when they announced that "Spamalot" was coming here in February, I told him that this would be the only thing I'd want for my birthday. I know the tickets are expensive and, frankly, we have enough stuff in the house without adding to it. So that was my one and only request.
Every now and then in the months that followed I'd drop a hint to remind him, hoping that he wouldn't wait until the last minute to buy the tickets. Because lord knows I've procrastinated on this type of thing. And sure enough, last month the performing arts center's website had a big "SOLD OUT" banner across the show's listing. So the neurotic idiot in me wondered if he had indeed procrastinated and we'd be out of luck. It wouldn't have angered me - he has always been one of the most thoughtful gift-givers I've ever known - but I've wanted to see this show for years and it would have been a disappointment at the very least.
But on my birthday he told me to close my eyes... and presented me with tickets to the show. Orchestra seats. Purchased more than three months ago.
Love. That. Man.
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