I have been really busy, y'all. Let me tell you the latest development in this awesome life of mine.
I found a Tuba.
In the trash.
My friend Jill and I had just dropped a friend off at her apartment after a rousing day of doing the stupid shit that we always do when we get together, like buying a bunch of pairs of flip-flops at Target and so on and so forth. Now, because this apartment complex was designed by rocket scientists and brain surgeons, they have one, count em, one dumpster for a complex with like, nine buildings, and the buildings have like, sixteen units a piece in them, so I don't know, you do the math, but that's a lot of garbage. So, we're driving past the trash heap that the chronically full dumpster hides underneath, and Jill goes, "Wait... did somebody throw out a tuba?"
I pulled a full on, tire screeching U-turn and busted ass back to the dumpster, where we found... Trash Tuba. It was totally in working order, apart from a few isolated dents and bangs.
So, right now, Trash Tuba is at the music instrument fixing place, getting all patched up. They said it would take about a week, and that was, like, last Tuesday, so I'm getting antsy. I want my Trash Tuba right now! I want to lovingly cradle it in my arms and play lots of brassy, fart-sounding slow jams. I WANT MY TRASH TUBA!
Okay, so I lied, I haven't been busy. But wasn't my absence worth it for a story like that?