If all had gone perfectly, as I type this, I should have been arriving in Northern VA for a bitchin’ heavy metal show featuring Mike T.. But I’m not.

Earlier this afternoon, I got a call indicating the show was off; no worries, this stuff sometimes happens. Oh well; there’d be less rushing around, and I’d be able to effectively play Dad to my kids and shepherd them off to some of their various activities. I’d catch Mike and company the next time they came to the area.

As I left work, it had seriously started cooling off anyway, and it was raining. Traffic would be pretty crappy. A little while after I got home, right about the extreme “drop dead” time I’d have to hit the road in order to make it on time, I get another call; the show’s back on. In the intervening time, I’d pretty much committed to taking on my parenting duties for the evening as Colleen was heading out the door to take Mary to her dance class. The timing just wasn’t going to work, and given that as I was relaying my regrets, I started seeing freezing rain bouncing off of the hood of my car (the little weather bug on my computer shows the Arlington VA temp in the 30s); odds are, traffic on the interstate would be REALLY crappy, and even if I left “right then”, I’d probably be stymied by weather-related traffic accidents, and not make it anyway. I don’t want to think about the drive home if the storm kept up.

All in all, it well and truly sucks. I was looking forward to the rock tonight, and catching up with my brother-in-law, and living the rock star life vicariously for a few hours.

Of course, it gets even worse. As I was feeding the younger two kids and myself some dinner, Andrew and I had a poor reaction to the hot dogs we ate; quick-onset food poisoning and copious vomiting is really the perfect icing on the cake.

Damnit.