Has the Well Gone Dry?

Today the main water pump for the outside system would not come on, which means that the fish ponds, which are low on water now and a sad sight to see, can only be filled using the chlorinated house water, and this would upset the natural bacterial balance. So, for the second time in a month, I've called a contractor to come out and take a look at something I am pathetically unable to fix on my own. At least this time I have an excuse, since my stomach has a gash that a bowling ball could pass through--almost.

The pump is on a timer, one of those complex, multi-line computers with knobs and sliders and settings that I don't understand, which is OK because I ran over some of its wires with a lawn mower last year anyway, so now the thing is either on or off, sending water through the one line that I have manually opened, with a direct shot to the fish pond, except now the pump won't even come on. Worst case: the well has gone dry, in which case our little fishes are in trouble. The guy tomorrow will know the answer.

My mom used to say "play me some blues." She was a big fan of the blues and big band music, partly because she lived in Memphis for a few years. She told me that she and my dad would go dancing in the big ballroom at the Peabody Hotel. Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa. And I think she saw Billie Holiday there.

I'm sure she realized that I was a mediocre musician, at best, but she always encouraged me to play in clubs, even when it meant that I was not pursuing a real career or a normal life.

This is no particular song and is full of stupid mistakes, but I've done worse. I call it "Oh baby, has the well gone dry?"