I think I shall whine.

You may skip this post.

I didn’t sleep Monday night.  No reason why.  I finally gave up trying to sleep at 4:30 and made coffee instead.  I printed out lyrics for the Chick Band music lesson in town.  I burned cd’s with special Chick Band music ideas.  I organized my writing notes.  I organized my music notes. I shaved my legs.  (TMI?  Sorry.)

I marked up my giant “things to do in town” list with various colored pens, just to keep the confusion to a minimum.  Going to town always involves a list, traffic, road construction, Walmart, groceries, the Dollar Store, Staples, the library and gasoline.  I left early, due to traffic, road construction, a stop at FedEx to pick up a package, Staples, a sale at grocery store #1, breakfast at MacDonalds (where I saw a tv star!  I don’t know his name) and the Dollar Store.  Did I tell you company is coming for a long weekend?

Then I met Retired Mountain Lady and Dancing Mandolin Player at the music store.  Which was locked.  And obviously undergoing a remodel.  We called our teacher, who obviously had forgotten to tell us about this.  He didn’t seem too upset to miss our lesson, but we were.   So we went to a nearby park and listened to music and talked about music and thought about music for a while.  I think we may have felt a little lost and sad and pathetic.

Or maybe that was only me.

thank you zedge.net

Then we went our separate ways to do our hundreds of errands.  I went to the library.  And to grocery store #2.  I loaded meat and milk and yogurt and butter into three coolers (remember, company is coming).

It was now at least 90.  I picked up prescriptions at the drug store.  I went to MacDonalds for a cold drink.  The tv star was no longer there.  Did you know that whatever size drink  you order this summer it’s always $1.09?

I also reluctantly went to the drop-in clinic because I promised Banjo Man I’d have a formerly weird (this morning it looked much better) spider bite on my arm looked at.

The doctor thought I was an idiot.  So did the nurse.  I really didn’t want to be there.  The doctor talked about hydrogen peroxide and airplane jet fuel and asked me hypothetical questions about bleach.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  I sipped my Diet Coke and wondered if the heat had gotten to him, too.  He told me it was a weird spider bite.  I was told to keep using Bacitracin and bandaids.

Banjo Man owes me $50.

Off to Walmart, where they had no more cherry tomato plants (damn deer).  The woman at the register suggested I buy a gun instead.  Really, she did.

I bought a box fan.  And a bucket of ice cream.  Oh, and a chunk of brisket to cook.  Company coming!!!  I also picked up a Tuscan pannini at Blimpie (inside Walmart), a Music Lesson Day Tradition.  The ice cream went into cooler #4.

 My agent called while I was gone and chatted with Banjo Man; she wanted to know why I wasn’t back from town yet.  She is a true New York City person, so she has no clue.  I’m still waiting for the call back, but I have three s**tloads of chicken enchiladas and a peach pie to make.

Pardon my French.

While I wait for the phone to ring, I will hide from the empty enchilada pans and write this blog post.

Next time I might tell you how license plates = romance.

Maybe after a good night’s sleep.