Five minutes later the state of euphoria ended when I looked down at my flute and realized that the pads are moldy! Granted I've had the thing for six years and it has never been completely repadded, but still. I feel like a bad mother. I feel like the National Flute Association is going to send in a SWAT team to confiscate my flute and haul me off to some kind of jail for band geeks, where I'm be punished by being forced to polish trumpets all day. Oops! I guess I didn't say any of that.

It smells like burnt water in here, if that's possible. I'm not the greatest cook in the world (aside from my amazing cornbread and my kick-ass chicken jambalaya and my wonderful key lime pie and excellent cookies.... ok I lied, I am somewhat of a good cook), but I do know how to boil water!

Hmmm. I guess that's all I have to say for right now. Some people are goofballs. That being said, I would like to leave you with a little song. Janis Joplin is my hero, just so you know:

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Oh Lord, won't you buy me/A golden Powell flute!/My friends all have Hayneses/They've got lots of loot!/Worked hard on my pract'cin'/To my lessons I scoot!/So Lord, won't you buy me/A golden Powell flute!

Oh Lord, won't you buy me/A wooden picc'lo!/The Boston Symphony/Needs me in their next show!/I like those high notes/So I'm ready to go!/So Lord, won't you buy me/A wooden picc'lo!

Oh Lord, won't you buy me/A spot in the BSO!/I know they really need me/Playin picc'lo!/I've packed up my Yankees cap/So on the train I go!/So Lord, won't you buy me/A spot in the BSO!

Everybody!

Oh Lord, won't you buy me/A golden Powell flute!/My friends all have Hayneses/They've got lots of loot!/Worked hard on my pract'cin'/To my lessons I scoot!/So Lord, won't you buy me/A golden Powell flute!

That's it!

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Thank you. The geek has left the building.

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