The circus came to town last month - and parked right outside our window. I thought it would be really exciting to take the kids to Cirque du Soleil - after all, I've always wanted to go myself, and Ezra has been enrolled in circus classes off and on for a couple of years. (I admit I live vicariously through him - I wish I were a fire dancer!)
Once we saw that the tent was blocking our view of the Mississippi, however (and the view is one of the main reasons we moved into this apartment), and were informed that the music would be very loud, and would last 'til 10:30 p.m. almost every night for 8 weeks, and once we realized that they specially positioned the spotlights to shine right into our bedroom windows all night long. . . well, I thought maybe we should all get tickets for free.
My husband went to a meeting, where he was placated by some superior-types, and told that such a request "sounded reasonable." He was also told they'd adjust the lights.
But no such luck - we soon received word that all St. Paul "neighbors" would receive 50% off the tickets - even people who live far enough away that they are not affected by the noise, traffic, lighting, or view blockage. We had a few days to act on this discount deal. The days ticked by. I had been planning on writing a heartfelt letter to someone - but to whom?
Finally, I realized that holding out for my free tickets could take another month, drive me insane, and end up fruitless. Yes, it's true, I could work on manifesting the tickets, but I tried manifesting big things last summer and I just ended up homeless.
So, I decided I'd rather be Happy than Right. I just bought tickets for myself and my six-year-old. I feel guilty not taking my almost three-year-old, but the children's tickets are $29 each, even with the discount and not including the "shipping" fee (of emailing it to me) or whatever other surcharges they slap on there.
For this I will deprive myself of a haircut, a lot of coffee, and many other things. But I just had to go and see the circus. I might be a doormat, but at least I can look out the window for the next five weeks and have an association with a show, and not just a big, imposing tent.