I leapt out of bed this morning and rushed right to the computer to write things for pay, and now — taking a tea break for a minute here — I have nothing left to say. And more writing for pay to do.

I’ll just mention that I am astonishingly bad at bell ringing. I went back to bell choir last night, thinking that we would be doing the same pieces as last week, and I would be a step ahead. No such luck. We did completely different pieces. Now only were they bristling with notes (mine are, you may recall, in the imaginary section of the staff), but they also had cryptic notations like LV, TD, and special symbols that meant to knock the bell on the foam table. I was clearly a drawback to the choir as a whole, and the only reason they didn’t throw things at me and ask me to leave is that we were in church and it would have been unseemly.

In one piece, the final measure includes (indeed, from my point of view as a bellringer, consists of) two Cs, both half notes. I shared with the director that that measure was the only one I felt confident about in the entire folder of music. “You just need practice,” he said. This shows how desperate he is to have somebody, anybody, playing the B6 and C7.

I must try to put the whole sad episode out of my mind and get back to work.