Hella Stella

I left my notebook at a gig in Almonte last month.

For those of you who do not know me personally: I am hopelessly addicted to my notebook. Chronic listmakers get a bit twitchy when they don't have their goods with them. I don't know how I forgot to put it in my purse when we left the venue, but since I was also using it to hold my set list that night, I imagine that I forgot it on the stage. Lame.

Upon realizing that it was missing, I told myself to keep calm (after frantically not keeping calm and tearing apart my gig bag) and contacted the organizers to get it back. I hadn't heard anything since I sent off that e-mail. Something snapped in my brain today, so I made some calls, and spoke with the lovely wife of the person I was trying to reach. She's going to mail it to me, and assured me that she understood my twitchy nervousness, being a notebook addict herself. Thank goodness.

Losing my notebook for the better part of a month has made me reevaluate how I store my information. While the lists I keep may not be of value ot anyone but me, I go nuts without them. I store random phone numbers in there, addresses, recipes, songs and gift ideas among other things. I'm now in the process of getting better organized so that next time this happens, I'm not totally fucked. I feel better about it already. Operation Back-up Lists!

In completely unrelated news, Morty had a play date with a pit bull / shar pei / lab mix doggie last night and got humped so vigorously that he eventually just lay on the ground and sighed. Apparently my dog is quite the catch. I laughed so hard I nearly shot wine out of my nose. Go Morty go!