38522 word count. Feeling very yucky and my bp is not great.
I want to run away from home, which is hilarious, because it’s the only place I feel comfortable.
Lady Hale read the UK Supreme Court decision regarding the prorogation of Parliament and she was wearing the BIGGEST FUCKING SPIDER BROOCH you have seen in history and within MINUTES there was a t shirt imitating that look on sale in the UK.
I have redone the tempo key and tune for Dishing with Joyce. Even when I’m not writing other creative stuff is going on. I haven’t been practicing every day of late, but anyone who thinks I’ve gone soft is advised to inspect my callouses, although not my dulcimer callouses, cause I’m losing them.
The problem is that Rowena is a fucking MONSTER TO TUNE. There are separate issues, she’s not level or flat or anything in any dimension and she was put together in a hurry by a man who openly needed money (at least if my recollection of our facebook convos has any accuracy) so she is gorgeous and a peach and sounds great when she’s in tune but when she’s not IT’S what feels like HOURS OF GODDAMNED FUCKERY because besides everything else merely tuning her to standard tuning DOESN’T WORK because the frets are out by a c-hair. I am seriously considering not taking her across the medicine line. My packing list looks like a horror show.
Anyway, because she’s a monster to tune she gets played less. The little Johnson Mandolin never gets played because it has the worst pegs evar and will not stay in tune in any dimension, but it’s just the one problem, otherwise it’s a sweet little thing.
And because played less, losing callouses.
Jeff’s off at a client’s. He is a noble and faithful consultant, and he needs a hollerday.
I should take my vitamin d, I think I’ve forgotten the last couple of days.