Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

A tune from this CD popped into my head earlier and wouldn't leave, so I dug the CD out of the stack and stuck it in the player. Dunno what made me start humming it in the first place.

Made it back out again to get my guitar picks repaired at the nail salon (hey, if I didn't play Scottish music really loudly, I wouldn't need acrylic on the three main strumming nails), and exchange a guitar pickup that didn't work. (Silly me, I didn't test it when I bought it -- it was a replacement for one of the same model that I'd used for a decade or so which finally had its cable die right near the pickup itself -- so the way I found out it was dead was on stage at Balticon when Allon, our sound man, made faces at me and sent someone up to plop a mic stand in front of me.) Got home and called the ... uh ... mortgage broker? ... the guy the realtor told me to call about borrowing money. He'd had a chance to pull my credit report, and my mother's, and let me know that with her as a co-signer we should be able to borrow enough for the miracle I need. Now to find out whether there's still time to make either of the two miracles I'm trying for work. Going for a last-minute save on the housing issue. Whee.

Really wish my father were alive. He was an accountant. He understood all this money stuff. I don't. Give me whacked-out network topologies, tell me to modify someone else's program in a language I've never seen, have me play a basse dance or a galliard, or ask me how to set the camera to compensate for really odd lighting, and I'm okay. Get into money matters and I feel lost.

Hmm. Fire trucks just pulled up in front of a house in the next block. I should put clothes back on and see if there's anything to photograph. Or maybe I'll just shoot from my third-floor front window with a long lens. (Lazy, lazy photographer. My excuse: I'm really tired.)

Anyhow, I'm gonna grab a roll of Tri-X and lean out the window. With luck I'll remember what else I was going to write when I get back to this later.