NP: Pearl Jam, Rearviewmirror

On the one hand, this is sort of what I remember my "normal" life being like. On the other hand, the last time I'd call my life truly "normal" was the first half of 2001. It's entirely possible that I'm getting too old to be running around like a crazy person all the time. I had most of Monday night to myself after hitting the gym, but those couple of hours are the only non-sleeping downtime I've had since Sunday night.

I was going to keep up the relentless pace tonight, but cooler heads have prevailed, and I'll at least quit a little earlier than I had originally planned. Which is good, because otherwise a two-gig weekend would likely hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks.

All of this means, naturally, that this is the week I finally have deadlines at work. This is ultimately a good thing, although I'm not sure if I should be worried that I'm finding some mistakes in my work, or happy because I did actually find them.

And it's the week that finds Chicago buried in snow. People love asking me, as I cart my drums around, if sometimes I wish I had taken up the trumpet. Abi asked me something similar after rehearsal, among other, somewhat more perplexing questions. While the answer is almost always no, last night forced me to say "almost" back there.