My original entry title was going to be, Another One Bites the Dust, but I sort of recalled using that title before. So I searched – and yeah, I’d used it before, in 2010, 2008, and a variant in 2011.
Oops.
We hit the ground running this morning and kept at it for a long, productive day. By 8:30am-ish this morning we’d already filled the car and had to stop by the house to empty it before going further. By 10:30am we’d filled it a second time and had to drop off.
Y’all, it’s been a LONG time since we had a two-load day. Today was technically a three-load day. Gimme a “Yee-HAW!”
There was more.
If you’ve been reading my blog for more than a minute, you know I’ve elevated “cheap” to an art form. Most of the time, this is a good thing and works well for us.
Unfortunately, there are some items where going cheap only gets you somebody else’s junk. Case in point: clothes dryers. We’ve had to replace four of ’em over the past five years, and our fifth one has turned into a screeching and insistent banshee every time it’s turned on. I asked G if he wanted to get it fixed, which could range from only three times what we paid for it to considerably more than a new appliance. I presented it that way while giving him the stink eye at the prospect of hauling another used dryer in the back of Stormtrooper, much less into this house.
New, it is.
There’s a family-owned appliance place in Arizona where I’ve bought things before, and I knew their already-good prices were negotiable. Yes, just like for my laptop, I planned to haggle. Except… I didn’t need to. Walked in, said (paraphrased), “Here’s what we need. Gimme a simple, basic workhorse.” There was a really good model on sale – and before I even got the chance to haggle, the salesperson reduced it another $30. It was already $200 below the price on the Home Depot website, for the same model, before the $$ off. It had everything we wanted and more.
Our new dryer will be delivered and setup a week from Monday.
This was also not the end of our day – or technically even in chronological order.
When I talk about having lots of irons in the fire… I’m not kidding. Besides the day job, I do book formatting. I mentor book cover designers and help connect them with resources and training. I write and edit books. I help G with his projects, do the yard-sale runs, and so on.
Aaaaand I write songs. A fair number of them.
I’ve been writing songs for a while but never did anything with them until recently.
There was a monkey wrench in the works, however.
I can write music. I know music theory, understand chords, progression, etc. I know all this stuff. I grew up in front of a fucking microphone. My family toured. I could harmonize by ear by the time I was seven years old. I coulda been an Osmond. One of the few things I liked about my greater family is that if you didn’t play at least three different instruments, it was assumed something was wrong with you.
Fast forward to the current timeframe. I didn’t own anything musical, not so much as a kids’ plastic whistle. Much as I love G, he’s a genuine curmudgeon when it comes to playing or singing music in his earshot, which meant a standard piano was out of the question.
As of early this afternoon, we own an electric piano. I’ll use it with a headset. It will let me write music and G won’t have to listen to it.
Yes, I know this is a Quora/Reddit AITA waiting to happen, but we already know who the asshole is here and he blinked.
You see, the first song I sent to someone not related to me… is being recorded. G and I reached the piano compromise above.
I did join BMI (professional songwriters’ association). Correction; I started the process. I hit panic mode when I got back their provisional acceptance. I gotta fill out more paperwork – not a rejection, just more stuff to complete my profile, basically. Pretender syndrome is a real bitch.
There’s another reason for the title I chose here. I can no longer sing. I’m not saying I can’t carry a tune: I’m saying my voice barely cooperates enough to talk. When I attempt to sing, I end up squeaking, or crackling, or whatever random annoying noise chooses to manifest from my throat. Which also screws with my ability to put a song together to demo for anybody. So I have to hire it out. Putting it on staff paper, physical or digital, gives it a better presentation.
This day still wasn’t over for us. My younger daughter has been miserably sick all day. Nothing contagious – just more MS fun at work. She was bad enough she couldn’t pick our granddaughter up from school. The timing and location of granddaughter’s school was such it meant a drive of about 2.5 hours before we got home.
Rush-hour traffic in the city reminds me why working from home merits (chair) dancing a jig. Double that when working from home means working out in the boonies, where a traffic jam is four or five cars at Itty Bittyville’s solitary stop light at the same time.
And even better is retirement!
I know. I’m hoping to get there in three years or less. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
There seems to be no end to your skills. I am amazed and proud to know you.
Aww thank you, Terri. I’m a firm believer you can do whatever you’re determined enough to do, as long as it’s physically within your abilities 🙂