Last night I slept for twelve hours. The last hours of that marathon were spent in a panic over breaking my violin bow and not being able to find another. I was in a strange town. I couldn’t access the internet to find the closest violin shop. The yellow pages were no help, as the music stores only sold cd’s and not violin bows.
I never did figure out what I was going to do without a bow. When I woke up I checked to make sure I really had a bow. In real life, I do need a new bow to replace the very inexpensive student bow that my fancy-schmancy violin likes a lot better than the expensive bow my cheap Texas fiddle loves.
I have just typed the word “bow” five times in one paragraph. Sorry.
So…I think this means I have missed playing my violin.
My friend Pat has a broken violin bow sticking out of her magazine rack. I asked her why she had that (Pat has many talents, such as writing and art projects, but playing music is not her thing) and she said, “Oh, is that what this is??? I’ve always wondered.”
It seems she uses it to retrieve yarn balls and anything that has been caught under the sofa.
Just the idea of that makes me queasy. Especially after last night.
Be careful with your bow, Warren.