Creeping closer.
Eight-thirty and at work still, after driving home to pick up my sister's laptop to reformat the hard drive and reinstall XP while I work late, getting almost back to work and realizing I didn't have my XP disc, driving back home, not being able to find my damn XP disc for the life of me, and driving sulkily back to work in defeat. But I hit up Greenberry's in there somewhere, so, not a total loss.
I am bleeding exhausted, though. This is all work-stuff I was supposed to do Sunday which was then trumped by driving to Fredericksburg. Tonight has been my first free night to stay late and *do* it. Gym stuff is in the car and will be steadfastly ignored until tomorrow.
Took the JazzBeast to Rob at Charlottesville Music yesterday and damn if he didn't straight hook it up: got rid of a little more than half of the fret buzz, which with this model is probably about the best I could expect. But she's a joy to play now, along with being still hott as all. Of course three weeks will no doubt have my left shoulder pretty much prison-raped, but that's the price you pay for loving your pinstriped Dickies guitar strap enough to preclude getting a wider one. The things we do to look good.
So bass is set up, hair is dyed and cut, and the major "shit to take care of so your boss doesn't kill you" mountain at work is breached. The antsiness is of course there in spades and has been this whole week, but I've been blessed in a way by the hours' occupation by frantic preparations as a device to ignore it mostly. A few scattered errands and chores are left, all of which comfortably simple. The big shit is out of the way.
So this may or may not be my last entry-of-substance regarding the tour before I leave. But do expect a sizeable entry tomorrow, slightly more notable and considerably more meta.
[[Oh, and the aforementioned book dilemma has been resolved by last night's B&N trip: Samuel R. Delany's Dhalgren (thanks krues8dr and thekdog), barely edging out David Mitchell's number9dream. Very much looking forward to whatever opportunities I'll have to get lost therein.]]
I am bleeding exhausted, though. This is all work-stuff I was supposed to do Sunday which was then trumped by driving to Fredericksburg. Tonight has been my first free night to stay late and *do* it. Gym stuff is in the car and will be steadfastly ignored until tomorrow.
Took the JazzBeast to Rob at Charlottesville Music yesterday and damn if he didn't straight hook it up: got rid of a little more than half of the fret buzz, which with this model is probably about the best I could expect. But she's a joy to play now, along with being still hott as all. Of course three weeks will no doubt have my left shoulder pretty much prison-raped, but that's the price you pay for loving your pinstriped Dickies guitar strap enough to preclude getting a wider one. The things we do to look good.
So bass is set up, hair is dyed and cut, and the major "shit to take care of so your boss doesn't kill you" mountain at work is breached. The antsiness is of course there in spades and has been this whole week, but I've been blessed in a way by the hours' occupation by frantic preparations as a device to ignore it mostly. A few scattered errands and chores are left, all of which comfortably simple. The big shit is out of the way.
So this may or may not be my last entry-of-substance regarding the tour before I leave. But do expect a sizeable entry tomorrow, slightly more notable and considerably more meta.
[[Oh, and the aforementioned book dilemma has been resolved by last night's B&N trip: Samuel R. Delany's Dhalgren (thanks krues8dr and thekdog), barely edging out David Mitchell's number9dream. Very much looking forward to whatever opportunities I'll have to get lost therein.]]