September 15, 2005

12:55 a.m.

Weary

Dog-ass tired. Humid and warm tonight; the gig was sticky. Nobody noticed, but we sucked. I mean that in a relative way, of course; we were fine. But I lost some guitar dexterity owing to sweaty hands, and the fact that I don't own a drill.

See, I remounted the living room window hardware this morning, which included a new blind and a fancy curtain rod, and I don't have a drill, so all the screws had to go into tough, virgin wood. You'd think, with the window casements in the shitty shape they're in, rotting and askew, that the frames would be easy to hand-screw screws into. But, no. The frames are solid, proud, macho. Fossilized, practically. Gave me a little blister on my right rude-gesture finger, and totally tired my arms out.

In fact, my whole body's still tired from the last couple of days. Now, I've been painting off and on for a month, some marathon days. I've moved almost everything in my whole apartment at least twice, and it's a big place. But this week my body said, "Enough. I'm now tired; you can stop, please." So when I got to the gig I was still stiff, still a little nappy. I did take a nappy when I got there, in fact. And I don't mean a diaper, all you silly English people who think napkins are menstrual pads, and call those table hankies "serviettes." And how can you put a suitcase into a boot, I ask you? It's a trunk. Like the one the lady gets into before getting sawed in half. So I took a nappy, which involved lying down on a bed and dozing off for an hour after I got to the yoga center. I could've slept for another two, but then it was time to get supper and be late for sound check. And you know the rest of the sticky story.

I could have stayed over, as I had the room, but I came home. For one thing it's garbage night, and as we have no cans outside but must keep our garbage inside our apartments until trash day, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to haul it downstairs into the warm late summer air. Also I have way too much to do tomorrow, and didn't want to spend half the day getting back. We're leaving very early on Friday; must drive over six hours to Maryland and then play a gig.

And now it's time for more than a nappy.