More legitimate gratuity.
Being on the end of a ten-day stress bender—with an intervening weekend involving all sorts of better chemicals—is draining. One last shoe to drop, too, maybe. Dunno yet.
But this is a virtual Friday night. There will be guitars, beers, and olde friends. Tomorrow the party moves 2,000 miles west-southwest. More olde friends, also stagemates of yore. We will have to substitute proper weather and sea air for the guitars. Fair trade.
If this weekend doesn’t put me right, I’m past fixing.