Clarinet

Sometimes I think of my hoary, battered clarinet, just biding its time in my closet, letting its own corks rot off, stinking in its case like a poorly-stashed corpse in July, and I have to conclude that yes, I should have stuck with high school band.

Sometimes I think that I will remove my rotting clarinet from the closet and get it rehabilitated by a Clarinet Rehabilitator. Then I will either relearn how to play or sell it to someone who thinks that it used to belong to Artie Shaw.