Many, many moons ago, there was band called Muffinhead. They were a North Texas Band, a trio looking for a fourth. The drummer was still in High School, the Bass Player was recently divorced software engineer with two cats, the Lead Guitarist was a suave travel agent. This band gained some popularity and were part of the very lively music scene of 1992. One of their best songs is called, “Uncle Mike”. It was inspired by the Drummer’s actual uncle.
That song is on my itunes and it has been shuffling in and out of my head/computer/ipod for the last two days as I finish and begin projects.
While I am glad to have finished a project that I began six years ago, I have the post-project-frenzy fall-out (World’s worst punk band.)
My brain is all confuzled and I am amazed at the flurry of things that have been left to drift about in my wake.
Elle has a new beta reader who requested a hard copy of her project. The printer is out of ink and the emergency pack didn’t work, so it was the Mom to the rescue (fortunately, the Mom rescues all in need.) The flurry of flash driving and gathering and the getting up and getting out (a song by Bindle that I sure wish I had copy of.) was just exacerbated by the usual crap pile in the house.
The hard copy got sent off. I returned with the usual afternoon tension headache.
On to the next thing: I got a free-lance gig adapting a graphic novel for the stage. That’s pretty cool, but there’s still all of this crap to clean up and wade through.
I have misplaced my active link (It’s a fit-bit kind of thing that clips on and calculates my activity.) I don’t know where or when I lost it; it probably leaped off sometime last night. So the need to clean may just have to turn into an actual urge and desire.
But first: My eight year old cousins have invited me to their birthday party this evening. My extended family always makes me feel better.
Especially if there’s cake.
I don’t think I have an Uncle Mike, but if one shows up, I’ll let you know.