Guit-chi in the Nap House

Predictably enough, guit-chi has a volatile herstory in the Nap House. Tripley so for my tendency to be most musically inspired when the music scene crowd is fashionably wrapped in its sleep hours. Singing in the dawn is taboo topic at your average party table. In the quarter century since the onset of ES's narcolepsy, the sensitivity of noise allowances has been so touchy that I often carried my guitar to other places rather than risk the unpredictable explosive reactions of his 24/7 narcoleptic sleep allowance.

I didnae risk pulling the guitar out of its case for the first days of ES's visit to the new digs. I risked it yesterday morning behind the closed door of the room I have been sleeping in, but didnae get far. I wander allot during guit-chi. be it from one room to another or down a park trail. The restriction of playing behind closed doors is. . . Triggery. . . The only place I am comfortable with closed doors is on the open highway. I never drive with my vehicle doors open. Any place else, my fear of entrapment and anxiety over what happens behind closed doors, both metaphorical and physical, get me howling like a beaten crazy bitch wolf.

I risked another guit-chi session this morning with all doors open, with the exception of the room where the visitors are sleeping, wandering from window to window through the dark house as I usually do. I took care to keep the volume down, but that was my only concession. No explosions. Harsh criticisms may still be pending, but I'll cross that proverbial bridge when/if I come to it.

Guit-chi report: Houston, we have lift off. . . Songs and scales rolling clean and complete.