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So I want to start playing bass again. (I've even made myself known to several local guitarists who are quite keen on getting together and jamming some time!) So I did what I *thought* was the hard part; namely, got off my ass (with copious help from my darling husband ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stuartc, as always!) and bought a cute little practice amp. The Man is playing poker tonight, so I thought I'd drag a chair into the sun room, plug in the amp, get out the bass, and mess around a bit.
Ha!
Step the first: Find an outlet where I can plug in the amp. Now, the sun room is filled with a cunning arrangement of IKEA bookshelves, as previously bragged about. Said shelves are piled alarmingly high and deep with a nigh-infinite variety of books, games, and random objects, which are a bit heavy and unwieldy in the aggregate. There are, as is traditional, four walls, three of which are obscured behind said stuff collection. After pulling out ALL the books and ALL the games on the bottom shelves, I got to the NEXT-TO-LAST shelving unit before finding the ONE OUTLET that exists in the ENTIRE ROOM. (Which is nearly, but not quite, blocked by the shelves' cross-brace.) Phew. A bit of rearranging and moved some books to other shelves, and the amp is plugged in.
Step the next: Voyage to the Bottom of the Closet From Hell. I must digress for a moment here, and mention that we have lately been living a blissfully clutter-free existence. This is possible primarily because of the third bedroom: a.k.a. the Sun Room, the Box Room, the Room Of Shame, and/or That Room Where We Keep The Door Shut All The Time And Try To Pretend It Doesn't Exist. The closet in this room is quite tiny, and is filled with an absolutely astonishing quantity of exercise equipment, flattened cardboard boxes, rucksacks, beach towels, musical instruments, and Other Completely Random Objects. Needless to say, the delicate Musical Instrument in question was at the back. I got it out, and I think I even put everything back into the closet that came out of it (plus a few extra boxes because I got carried away).
Step the third: find all the bits of the obligatory purple guitar stand and puzzle out how to put the damn thing back together. Easy.
40 minutes of hard labour and I haven't actually got the thing out of its box yet!
Now I'm catching my breath before a final assault on the awesome packaging job the movers did on the case. If I'm really lucky I'll remember to take a battery through for the tuner. Crap, I wonder where my metronome is... and whether we have any spare 9-volts...
I WILL play tonight. No amount of clutter is going to stop me!!
stuartc, as always!) and bought a cute little practice amp. The Man is playing poker tonight, so I thought I'd drag a chair into the sun room, plug in the amp, get out the bass, and mess around a bit.Ha!
Step the first: Find an outlet where I can plug in the amp. Now, the sun room is filled with a cunning arrangement of IKEA bookshelves, as previously bragged about. Said shelves are piled alarmingly high and deep with a nigh-infinite variety of books, games, and random objects, which are a bit heavy and unwieldy in the aggregate. There are, as is traditional, four walls, three of which are obscured behind said stuff collection. After pulling out ALL the books and ALL the games on the bottom shelves, I got to the NEXT-TO-LAST shelving unit before finding the ONE OUTLET that exists in the ENTIRE ROOM. (Which is nearly, but not quite, blocked by the shelves' cross-brace.) Phew. A bit of rearranging and moved some books to other shelves, and the amp is plugged in.
Step the next: Voyage to the Bottom of the Closet From Hell. I must digress for a moment here, and mention that we have lately been living a blissfully clutter-free existence. This is possible primarily because of the third bedroom: a.k.a. the Sun Room, the Box Room, the Room Of Shame, and/or That Room Where We Keep The Door Shut All The Time And Try To Pretend It Doesn't Exist. The closet in this room is quite tiny, and is filled with an absolutely astonishing quantity of exercise equipment, flattened cardboard boxes, rucksacks, beach towels, musical instruments, and Other Completely Random Objects. Needless to say, the delicate Musical Instrument in question was at the back. I got it out, and I think I even put everything back into the closet that came out of it (plus a few extra boxes because I got carried away).
Step the third: find all the bits of the obligatory purple guitar stand and puzzle out how to put the damn thing back together. Easy.
40 minutes of hard labour and I haven't actually got the thing out of its box yet!
Now I'm catching my breath before a final assault on the awesome packaging job the movers did on the case. If I'm really lucky I'll remember to take a battery through for the tuner. Crap, I wonder where my metronome is... and whether we have any spare 9-volts...
I WILL play tonight. No amount of clutter is going to stop me!!
