I was going to practice tonight, I really was. I went home after dinner and lied down on the couch to finish a conversation with my son. The cat got up on my belly–what bliss for both of us. My hand found the TV remote. Two and a half hours, and several episdoes of The Office later, I looked at the clock and said, “I forgot to write a blog post!” I had gone into the music room at one point and looked at the piece I need to learn; the couch–and the cat–called me back.
I don’t know exactly why, but there’s something about The Office that gets me through hard times. My dad passed away on January 8, and there have been so many things to take care of. I’m sleeping at my mother’s house; that’s a big adjustment.
When I got back here tonight, I found her going through some papers. She was puzzling over a letter. It’s about a will Dad drew up in 1968; the client’s son is trying to find a notarized copy of his mother’s will. Dad left the small firm in 1972; the other partner died some years ago. The letter is dated in September. Did my father get in touch with him?
Is this something I need to fix? That’s the question, so often. Do I write the man, say my father is dead, and so is his partner, and I can’t help you? Do I try to find the address of my dad’s former partner’s widow to see if she knows if the old files still exist? Or do I just operate under the assumption that my father had given the guy a call?
I’m glad I spent a couple of hours laughing over The Office. There’s only so much reality I can deal with per day.