What is the definition of rock bottom, you ask?

Well, I can answer that question. It is a multi-part answer and goes something like this:

In early December of last year you buy 2 tickets to the June Pink Martini Concert in Boston.

In February of this year you decide to get married and find out you are pregnant.

In March you start planning in earnest for a wedding that is going to take place 3 months later.

Throughout the spring you cope with working full-time, dealing with first trimester of pregnancy and planning the bulk of the wedding, integrating into a new family, dealing with your own family and running a household.

The end of the semester rolls around and you start thinking about what you will do for summer income post the wedding and continue to plan the wedding, deal with a new relationship, a new family, your own family, work, and picking up more of the around the house stuff.

The week of the concert rolls around and it is the week before your wedding. You've had a few majorly serious conversations with your fiance, dealt with emails from people asking questions about the wedding, unexpected visits from people at your house, a hissing cat and no time to yourself. You are feeling more stressed than you ever have but this night out is a bright light. This is your favorite band and you are psyched to go, all else be damned.

You go to downtown Boston, park in the city, go out to dinner which runs a bit late and run to get to the show at the Opera House.

Only it is closed.

And the gate is locked.

You pull out the tickets, your fiance looks at them and looks at you and says,

"Uh, Sarah, the concert was last night."

And you, in your on the edge mental state, proceed to lose it in the middle of Washington Street in downtown Boston.