Flip received a gift certificate to Guitar Center for Christmas. He already has several extremely nice guitars, both acoustic and electric, and decided to buy a Dobro.
The Dobro is an acoustic guitar with built-in resonator which is widely used in Delta blues. It is not finger-picked, but played with a replica Coricidin bottle over ones finger.
Guitar Center didn't have one in stock but agreed to order it from their catalog. Flip handed over his gift certificate and we waited for the guitar to arrive.
Apparently they couldn't locate one in any of their warehouses so they ordered it from the Gibson Company, which purchased Dobro from its inventors and now makes the guitar.
Every week, I called to see if there was an ETA, but there wasn't. Finally, eight weeks later, we were informed that Gibson no longer makes the Dobro.
We then ordered the guitar online from Musician's Friend, which in due time sent him a square neck model instead of the round neck we ordered. The square neck is played across ones lap like a xylophone, not held like a regular guitar.
We returned it and they agreed to transfer the payment to a round neck model and ship it to us. The young man in customer service said that their warehouse is automated so the mistake was not due to a stock clerk grabbing the wrong guitar. He said if it happened again, they would know that the stock is in the wrong place.
And now we know. The second guitar arrived today. It is also a square neck. According to their inventory they still have stock on the round neck model, which is not surprising since they can't find any to sell.
We packaged and returned the second guitar and came home to find a bill from Musician's
So I called. The customer disservice guy insisted that it was not a bill, although it says "please remit" in several places and also, "Payment due by 3/16/08."
If it quacks like a duck, it's a bill. Or something.
He didn't even apologize for the inconvenience caused by their mistakes. There is definitely grace lacking in the world. And not enough Dobros.
Meanwhile, poltergeists have taken over my life.
My favorite hat is AWOL. Lost. Completely off-the-face-of-the-earth missing. Vanished. Unrecoverable.
It is not replaceable. It is Nepalese. Knitted of silk yarn. It is my comforting blankie of a hat. Whenever I feel ugly, I wear this hat and I don't anymore.
I have ransacked our home and our car.
Unlike the cat that came back although he was a goner, the hat has not come back.
It is clearly a goner.
But I just found a t-shirt in my closet which I have never seen before from the Dock Street Bar & Grill in Tacoma, Washington.
I have never been to Washington State. Ever. In my life.
But I bet my hat is there.
Drinking its little ass off.