It was Monday, November 7, 1988.

I came back from New York feeling pretty upbeat. 

And even if the stuff in NYC didn’t pan out, I had other irons in the fire, and of course my band was happening again.  Some of the things that made me me were starting, it seemed, to work out again.

Either way, it looked as if I’d be able to bid the whole miserable situation goodbye soon.

I was right, although I didn’t know exactly how right I was, or why.

Wyatt was already a month behind on his bills – rent, power, phone, the works.  Shane and I were both getting tired of carrying him.

It was about 10AM, and I was heading out to go downtown when Wyatt came downstairs.

“Hey”, he said in his fake Arklahoma accent, “I got a plan to get the bills caught up”

“Ah.  Cool”, I responded.  It wouldn’t have been the first “plan”. Some of them worked, although none of them lasted.

“Yeah.  I’m bringing some product up from Florida”.

“Well, cool”, I said, walking out the door.  “Later”.

I was a couple dozen feet down the sidewalk when it sank in.  “Product?”

I occurred to me he wasn’t talking Amway…