The albatross never dies...

...in fact, the sumbitch keeps hanging around, flappin' those wings and doing what nasty birds do.

I find the weather at tomorrow's destination is going to be hotter than expected. Just what I wanted: drive several hundred miles, stand around in the desert sun all day, drive back.

An attempt was made to ease some of the pain. I arranged to get an economical car for the trip -- I was more than willing to trade an enjoyable machine that averages 18 mpg for a somewhat vanilla* car that gets 35 on the highway.

All in readiness, I went to collect it. Turned the key and...nothing. Not a click, a peep, or even a key-in-ignition chime.

A few minutes on the battery charger and all seemed well. All that is left, absent any obvious signs of serious problems, is a nagging concern that at 5:30 am tomorrow I will insert the key and...nothing.

I've been asked for roughly a dozen favors today. I have no qualms about fulfilling most of the wishes -- it's what you do for friends, even at the cost of some time and postage -- but one or two are definitely out. Why Mr Uncooperative? Because I don't much care for making money for someone else with no return beyond a tepid "thank you."

Refusing politely -- especially after worrying my weak-batteried econo-car home through typical creeping traffic (leaving the a/c off as a matter of prudence), finding the usual empty mailbox and already having promised plenty of time to others out of sheer friendliness -- was a bit of a slog. One person had the gall to act hurt that I wouldn't share my sources and information with him.

The sole bright spot of the day was a call this morning from my musician friend R. Talking about music always cheers me up.

Of course I get a little depressed afterward, knowing that I'm stuck with work for the foreseeable future, not making music.

He asked me to burn a CD from my collection for him. It's done, and in the mail.

Gotta be nice to your friends. The real ones are nice to you, too.

But I'm getting damn sick of having this albatross draped around my neck, Jim.

* That's unfair of me, reflective of my disquieted state. The ride in question has long been a favorite, and I even considered buying one at one time. But it ain't no hot rod, lemme tell you.