The first 48 hours of being home was remarkably self-indulgent. I slept the HELL out of Friday morning, eventually got up and went to a local massage parlor called Happy Feet and got my first-ever professional massage. A sturdy Chinese man kneaded and beat me and I felt better by the end of it. Hot water up to the ankles, coarse cloths and a swift snap of the neck and then back out into the noisome main street air (now that I finally use that term correctly – in this context I’m talking about the buses stopped in front of the parlor filling the immediate environment with diesel stink).
Then I went home and I ate too much and watched a lot of television. I’m not proud. I took a nap. Got up. Ate more. Went back to bed. Saturday was not dissimilar till it was time to go play a gig.
We rolled into Dogfish in Gaithersburg, played to a small number of friends and fans, loaded out and headed home. Not enough sleep happened betwixt then and now and we are currently headed down for my last on-the-schedule date at House of Musical Traditions. My brain is cloudy, a pretty good reflection of the skies above us as we head down on I-95 but I’m eager to see my schedule flow open and be filled with… whatever I damn well please. From here on in I’ll be doing website design and fill-in work for HMT, but probably very little on-the-clock and on-the-floor. I’m grateful for it.
