Emmylou has gone into repairs, at long last. I had an audition today that required guitar playing, and afterwards I realized how much it sucks to not be able to play anything on the first five frets. So I took 'er straight to good ole Rudy's music repairs. In addition to her bad frets needing to be fixed long ago, it turns out I should have been humidifying her during "this time of year." Who knew? I never heard of that. Then again, up until two days ago, I thought Special K was just the name of a cereal.
She should be done next Monday. This seemed reasonable to me in the repair shop, and I gladly handed her over and took the subway home. Thing is, home really isn't home without my guitar. I live in a tiny apartment where I can see everything I own from any vantage point. But now there's a vacuous space where she normally is, and I had to drape a blanket over my guitar stand so as to not get irrationally glum.
It doesn't help that I was working on a handful of songs over the weekend, one of which I'd like to finish and play for someone soon. Then again, I've always got this wicked hot 90's Casio keyboard that has some pretty slick preprogrammed arpeggiated melodies. That's romantic, right? Oh, I have egg shakers, too. If that ain't a recipe for a masterpiece, I don't want to know what is.
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