Bad air, back in the house
Once upon a time, I had some really decent music teachers. They took the time to introduce me to the English concert band repertoire. There, I had a prolonged chance to enjoy the musical genius of Holst and Vaughn-Williams, among others. Oh, how I miss my weekly dose of band practice (along with the rare chance to perform). This afternoon, I came across some playlists, on YT. The years melted away, and I’m back to counting rests, behind my timpani.
In Haiti, early this morning, they assassinated the president of Haiti. Please don’t confuse this with “I shot the sheriff”.
A notice on Facebook, announcing that there is now a group for “the Royal Academy of Octogenarian Cyclists”. I still have time to mount my red velocipede! (Or is it orange?)
My CO2 tank is home, refilled with really bad air. I jest. The previous fill was done, back around the time that the world went into home exile. During the next year plus, I had no way to get my SodaStream cylinders exchanged, so I adopted a “DIY” model. Did the bit with a tank and hose about sixteen times. Now for the math. An exchange comes in at around $20 plus the nuisance trips to and from the city. About $320. My refill came in at just over $40, so I count that as a financial win. Plus, I’m ready for the next long haul. Bubbly water on tap. Or from the tap. You decide. I’m just happy that life goes on, with refreshment at a price I can afford. There are two cylinders here, so I can refill at my own rhythm.
