If anyone remembers and/or read this post they know that my beloved Stratocaster was tainted by the poop of one little Westie. At the end of that post, I wondered if I'd ever feel the same about it, or if I'd always wonder if I was playing on a pile of crap, thus pushing me to play one of my other guitars and relegating the Strat to closet duty.
I'm happy to say that, for the most part, the shitar stigma has gone away and the Strat (I really have to come up with a name for it) has once again taken its place at the top of my little guitar heap. The other day, I had to put all of my guitars away as part of a remodeling project (I didn't want to get tan paint on my Fenders) and when it came time to put everything back and bring out a guitar to play, I reached for...Blackie? No, that's Clapton's Strat. I'll think of something to call it. Anyway, I brought out my Strat. It now holds its place alone on the dual guitar stand as my go-to guitar. I love all my guits, but he's my #1. He? Is it male or female? Hmm...
I'll come up with something. I think.
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