Blast!

So I guess summer is finally arriving. I know this because I actually burned the fuck out of my hand when I went to put my seatbelt on today. Work has been painfully boring, but I have high hopes for the Electric Eel Shock show tomorrow night. Nothing like a naked Japanese band to light up your friday night.
Our friend T was in town for a couple days, and he regifted us a very large coffee mug full of biscotti made by a bakery owned by a family friend of his in Ohio. It rocks. In fact, I'm going to have to go chase one down before I continue. (Makes to get up)...Crap! Wyatt just decided to rest his head on my foot. Now I don't have the heart to make him move and I'm trapped, biscotti-less and sweaty of foot, lashed to my computer until he decides to get up and bark at something.
Oh well, more of my week then. T, as he is wont to do, popped in without telling us when he would be arriving. As a traveling musician, he is used to being on his own schedule and is almost comically incapable of conveying it to anyone. Three weeks ago, I e-mailed him to ask if he was planning on staying with us on the night of his show here. The reason I asked was twofold: One, we needed to know whether or not we should schedule the night off from work so we could all hang out. Two, we needed to know whether we were going to have to allow another human being access to our house, which would first require a thorough cleaning, which would require at least two full days of effort. So yeah- simple e-mail. "Are you staying in town that night or going to your brother's house?"
The reply came several days later. It was a couple paragraphs long and carbon copied to a woman at his record label. "Okay to get cds sent to your house? What's your new address?" and that type of thing. Nothing about staying.
My reply to both T and the woman at the label was of course yes, followed by the address and another question regarding his plans for that night.
A week went by.
The b.h. asked if I had heard from T. I explained the situation. We cleaned up the guest room and knocked out some of the laundry that had been piling up. I sent another message to T: "I know you are busy, and I was just wondering... no pressure, just let us know if you think you might."
Another week went by.
I finally got a message, three days before the show, stating that he might in fact be in town the day before the show, and could he crash at our house? It was as if this was occurring to him for the first time.
"Of course," I told him in my reply, you're welcome to stay whenever. Give me a call and let me know when you will be here." I began by cleaning the bathroom about four minutes after hitting the send button. The b.h. cleaned the kitchen and we split vaccuum duty. I did the laundry while he mowed the lawn. The house looked splendid.
I had still not heard back from T, but the day he was scheduled to arrive we mostly just layed around watching movies. It got to be time for us to go to work. I e-mailed T to make sure he had our cell number. We went downtown. It got late. I finally called him around 11pm, just to see where he was and if he was still coming. I left a message. He called back fifteen minutes later. He was. In fact, he was only a few blocks away at that time, sitting in a restaurant. He came over.
He stayed two nights. His show was great. We hung around a bit. The cds never came from the label. He left.
I was a little busy so I hadn't checked my e-mail while he was here. When I did, There was a message from him that was a reply to my last message. "I'm here in town. Checking e-mail at the library." That was pretty much it. No call at that time, though, and I have to wonder when he would have called had I not called him. Ah well, at least I am used to it.
The cds arrived via UPS three hours after he pulled out of town.