Like most people, I have a long list of favourites. I will go to great lengths for my favourites, especially when they are grouped together – anyone can have a chocolate ice cream cone, but if it comes with kittens and orgasms and pleasingly symmetrical button placement? SO MUCH BETTER. As you can probably guess, these serendipical mashups don’t happen often because a) I’m into weird stuff that doesn’t come up often or go together in any sort of commercial way, b) the planets rarely align in my favour, and c) I suppose these happy accidents would be less special if they happened regularly.

Still, I hate to admit defeat and face reality. I was pretty excited about this, too: last year I learned that my favourite artist would be performing in my favourite city in May 2015. I do a lot of things without thinking the logistics through (which is ironic, as figuring out logistics is another favourite of mine), so I immediately bought a ticket to the show in London. I figured I’d have plenty of time to figure out how to make it work – and frankly, I’ve done sillier things than fly halfway around the world to see someone I’ve seen live a dozen times before. Adventure, right? It keeps life interesting!

Unfortunately, the first few months of 2015 have kind of kicked my ass, and with that ass kicking comes the cold, hard realization that I am not able to jet off to London in May. Later this year, sure – but sadly, not in time for the show. I would have dearly loved to be able to claim that I flew to London just to see a concert – in my head, I’m fabulous and wealthy and can do this sort of thing regularly – but that particular level of ridiculous is just going to have to wait for a more opportune time*. And that SUCKS. I hate being patient and sensible.

For once, it’s not the lack of money keeping me from my outlandish whims. I’m surprisingly busy in May, and I’ve run out of time to squeeze a vacation in amongst all the exciting things going on: a weekend in Seattle for a concert (slightly easier to get to than London), the wedding of two of my favourite people, a conference in Portland (I’m kind of giddy about this; I’ve been trying to attend this conference for YEARS and work is sending me, hooray!), and a follow-up ultrasound to see if my hearts are better yet. The echocardiogram is a good thing – long ago, I had planned to go to London in April of this year but pushed it out by several months because I wasn’t sure I’d still be alive, let alone well enough to wander a distant city all by my lonesome. If all goes according to plan, by the time I’m able to plan this trip proper, I’ll be better (or else).

I will be patient and sensible and do the logical thing here, but I’m still gonna be all stompy about it when I feel the need to be melodramatic. I know it’s dumb – it’s not like I don’t get to take a trip at all, it’s just that I can’t go in May – but there’s nothing more appealing than a petulant, middle-aged woman with minimal obligations and no dependants throwing a tantrum because of a few incredibly minor responsibilities.

Seriously, I should be a reality show on a crappy TV channel.

*: Anyone in planning on being in London on May 27th? I have one ticket to see Astronautalis at Club 100 on Oxford Street that is yours free of charge (in exchange for a very small favour). Hit me up on Twitter @kimli, or email me at kimli @ this domain dot com.

balls.