Winter of my Discontent

With Homestead over, and the banquet too horrifying to imagine, we've reached that part of the year when there just isn't that much to write about. So, much like Furniture Row Racing, I'm going to be writing a bit less over the next two months--more like every other day. Unless, of course, my musical idea comes to fruition. WHY, OH WHY wasn't I born a prodigy?!?