The time is out of joint, O cursed spite...

Because of the Monday holiday, trash collection comes (goes?) on Saturday this week. Couple that with Wife having to work on Thursday as well as her normal Friday-Sunday stint (couple of co-workers off to Texas teaching a seminar) and our entire set of weekly landmarks is thrown to hell.

Maybe next week I'll know what day it is.

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem ...

... may my right hand forget its cunning.

Also my left. Inspired by that discussion of folksong and Springhill, I dug my guitar out from under fifteen or twenty years of dust and cobwebs. Oh, hell. No, I can't play anymore. Took me half an hour to even tune the axe. Now my fingers hurt.