All Things Profane and Sacred

Today is going to suck more than most days, and this is in comparison to the stupid piano weekend I've just waded through. You see, J has this piano, his grandma's piano, a piano that was made in the 1800s and came out here strapped to a conastoga wagon. It has lived at his mom's house for as long as I've known him. When his mom's house burned down, the piano got a little scorched on the outside, but was still standing. This weekend, he was determined to get the damn piano. The perverse bastard insisted on bringing it all the way to Portland, I suspect in hopes that the mojo created would be such to generate a job offer in far off Newport.

He made a dolly for the piano, and his mom rented a truck down in McMinneville. I dropped him off down there, made my way back through damn hell Dundee (may you all rot in hell) in the Sunday going home traffic, head pulsing and aching in same areas that my head pain has lived in since the bar exam-back of the eyes, front teeth and jaw, bridge of my nose. In Newberg, I was involved in a minor auto collision, which is probably going to bring my whole financial house of cards falling down. The piano made it fine.

Today, I get to again go to court over this stupid fucking driving uninsured ticket, work late, wait for a phone call from down in Newport, wait for another call from Newberg, and call one of my more ominous creditors and explain that I don't have any money just now, and they should just get in line and wait, goddammit.