Drum sticks, to be more clear. I don't have a picture, but would like to tell you the story of my Sunday drumming.
Yes, I play the drums. On Sunday. At our church. Usually.
I almost didn't this past Sunday.
I almost sort-of played them, but here's the story.
I have a stick bag. It has two of my favorite pairs of sticks, hot rods, mallets, etc in it. It usually stays in a closet at church, but it came home with us after we practiced this week because one of my snares needed adjusting and we needed sticks to test it. The snare went back to church on Saturday, on the way to trade in Troy's car on my new van, and I thought the sticks did, too. So, on Sunday as we were getting ready, I said, "My sticks are at church, right?"
Well, Troy wasn't sure about that. So, we searched the house and found one of my sticks. I still figured the rest were at church.
But, they weren't.
Not in the closet.
Not on the platform, or under it.
So, I found a big plastic ladle in the kitchen. I figured I could use it on the snare and play the visible things with the stick.
Luckily, someone climbed into the attic and found another lone stick. It was just in time - about 2 minutes before church started.
Then, where were my sticks?
In the trunk of Troy's car that he traded in on Saturday. Picked them up today!
Moral of the story - Check the trunk when you trade in a car.
(Troy tells me I tell boring stories...)