While digging through some of my possessions at home (where I am now), I came across my cache of sheet music. They are wrinkled and marked up, every little line a reminder of my musical shortcomings. Here’s one I started but never finished due to a fatal combination of the piece’s difficulty and my laziness. It’s Rachmaninov, or as I liked to refer to it, punkrockmaninov. Op. 23, No. 5 in G minor:

Tonight is the night of our family’s big Christmas party blowout. Hannah says I should put something nice on, but I explained that “this is my best hooded sweatshirt. Plus, I just washed it.”

There is NO TELLING what might happen tonight – who might sneak off and make out in the bathroom, who might spike the punch bowl, who might accidentally light a stranger’s bangs on fire. This is the kind of crowd we attract for our Christmas parties. Rowdy ragamuffins.