So I was trying to mow the lawn between monsoons today, and the mower wasn’t even up to its usual level of incompetence, so after fixing the first issue and still suffering the slings and arrows of disappointment, I decided I should go to the store and get some parts, and by “parts” I mean “beer.”
Mowing the lawn usually gives me a lot of time for random musings. One of my musings today was the reluctant admission that I have made a bad decision in the relationship department. I did not choose wisely. I’ll call her Gretschen. She was a sleek back beauty I met in Elderly Instruments a year or so ago. She’s from the Synchromatic family. From a long lineage going back to 1883, with links to such esteemed musicians as Chet Atkins, and even British royalty: George Harrison. I thought she was a gem, a peach, a fortuitous find. She was gorgeous and well strung. So I adopted her on the spot. But we were not meant for each other. We could not make beautiful music together.
Alas, I have no musical talent, so I couldn’t bring out the best in her. This despite our local funeral home listing me as “musician” on more than one memorial bulletin. Funeral homes have a dark sense of humor. You would too, if you were in the business. I know. My grandfather was a funeral director. I simply run the A/V system at our church. I do funerals. I am not musical in any way, shape or form. I can’t follow a tune, read music, or even keep a steady beat. No talent whatsoever. (Oh, sure, I can play a mean CD, and even manage to play a tune or two on my old iPod– despite Apple’s random, confounding “updates” to the Windows software version, but I prefer to think I’m just collateral damage in the Forever War between Apple and Microsoft.) But I know I’ve disappointed Gretschen far more than she has disappointed me. Whenever I would express my pain in any way, she would get surly, angry, turn on me and yell, “You’re not my real dad!” Then she’d retreat to her gig bag to sulk. I admit I’ve left her sulking there for far too many months.
I think it’s time to part ways. We’ll see if Elderly Instruments will consent to take her back. On a consignment basis, of course. Unless anyone out there would like to adopt her and give her a good home where she can sing and be happy.
I need to get back to mowing the lawn before the rains start up again. Pretty soon I’ll probably need more “parts.”