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Woke up to the sound of an army of workmen erecting the world's loudest building right outside my window. I usually strive to wake up to the sound of falling rain, like in the Skid Row song, it's soothing to one's frayed nerves.

The historic Cain's Ballroom, where last time we played I hit my head with a historic force. This time, though, I followed the proper protocol, which is to greet Bob Wills (the old timey country star whose ghost purportedly haunts the venue) when I walked in the door. I didn't do this last time, which is why his ghost visited me with some blunt-force trauma.