Don't send out the search parties!

I am alive!

I swear I am. I am not a zombie typing this. I am a living, breathing, thinking human being.

It's just the busiest time of year for us flutists in the music industry. Customers all day, back to back. Fighting for my right to take lunch. Trying to avoid the new efficiency expert. (By the way, bitch, I don't appreciate you telling me that I can't wear shorts to work. Not that I ever do, except that one time two Decembers ago, but the greatest thing about my job was being able to wear whatever I wanted. And no skirts above the knee? Jesus, woman, this is Texas!)

And if I have one more kid get up in my face and scream stupid questions at me while I'm on the phone! (On the phone! Seriously!)

It's self defense when you scream back, right? It's not revenge! It's self-preservation!

And defending myself from the actions of coworkers! Seriously! I nearly went down for something Raver did, and if I hadn't been such a fast thinker I would be the one in hot water right now...

Oh...I may have accidentally cost the store fourteen hundred dollars, but it was Manager Man's mistake since I went to him and followed his exact instructions...

I swear. I will give you all of the details from this. 

Just later. You know, when I've recovered from my near drowning yesterday.

Oh yes. Someone very nearly drowned me. I'm waiting to see if I come down with pneumonia because I'm certain I didn't get all of the water out of my lungs. I almost feel bad for spitting in a public swimming area. But, you know, I had to get the water out.

You'll get the story on that, too. Because after that little incident I'm certainly done forever with pools of all kinds, current and wave alike, and I'm sticking to a chair under an umbrella from now on. And no more water parks for me, thank you very much. Before it was a simple matter of fearing sharks. Unreasonable as that one was, now I have a much more concrete fear: being drowned by idiots.

For the record, I didn't hit him. But it took a lot of self control, and I only didn't do it because he was a punk kid, no older than twelve. But he would have deserved it!

That being said...I'm popping in to say I'm here, I'm alive, I'm reading even if I'm not commenting, and I swear that I will be back after Band Season has taken it down a notch. Cross my heart and hope to live!

And P.S. No matter that they're now offering me five times per contract for renting out used Jupiter instruments as they were earlier, I will not do it. Not a new one, not a used one. I do not believe in Jupiter instruments. And may I be struck down if I ever turn my coat and recommend what I know to be an inferior instrument to someone to make a few dollars more. Not a flute (never, ever, ever! Not with the quality and bargain pricing of Pearl so readily available as a substitute!), not a clarinet, not a trumpet. Nothing made by Jupiter (except their euphoniums because those are the only instruments Jupiter actually makes with quality...except the lacquer or silver plating. That is still shitty.) will be suggested by me.