Doubly good to me

I leave the office a bit early. I've been hankering after a little time playing the organ, so I take advantage of an unoccupied hour to head over to Saint Luke's. I get my organ shoes and my metronome out of the back seat, where I keep them in case of musical emergency. I chuckle a bit when I think about my last drive down to meet with the Bishop of My Sojourn, which involved a good ten or fifteen minutes of worrying that the shrill, regular beeping I heard meant something had gone very badly wrong with my car. It finally dawned on me that I had accidentally turned on my metronome, which was tweeting merrily away, 36 times every minute.

After checking to make sure there are no AGO members within earshot, I read through all the evening hymns and most of the Easter hymns. I am pleased to find that although I am clearly out of practice, I am not yet completely incompetent. I conceive an idea for a parody song -- "The year thou gavest, Dean, is ended; our classes cease at thy behest" -- but regretfully conclude that even my favorite phrase ("hushed-up DUI arrest") does not rescue the whole thing from utter lameness.

All my favorite choir folks are there for dinner before rehearsal. Conversation is lively. Then rehearsal itself -- lots of good music, and plenty of men, for once. I head home afterwards in a glow of goodwill toward all choir-kind.

The last song I hear on the XM 80s station as I pull into my neighborhood is Erasure's "A Little Respect."

And then M comes home. He has stories about his colleagues that have me doubled over, laughing helplessly.

And David Cook is safe on American Idol.