During my diseased state last week, I did manage to get out my old guitar, shine it up a bit and restring it. Then I managed to play for about a half hour before my fingers started to weep blistery tears. But it was nice to play for a bit. I don’t think I’ve touched it much in the past decade or so. Lack of spare time is the worst part about being grown up. Well, that and every tick of the clock brings you that much closer to death. Oh, and jury duty sucks.