I can has Deus ex machina?

Homeschool girl had her Harp recital last night, so naturally, being the great genius of the world, I decided I just had to finish tweaking the harp's setup.

It was way out of whack when we bought it, buzzing against the sharping levers on several strings. After we'd stared at it for a few months, we eventually came to the conclusion that we were not going to be experiencing an epiphany of harp wisdom, so we took it to a luthier.* He showed us that the tuning and bridge pins for every single string had actually been installed incorrectly (a commom error on this brand, as I learned recently when it occurred to me to look it up on the Yahoo Harp list -- DUH!). Anyhow, it's a royal pain, but he got us started resetting them.

Since then, I've been attacking the harp periodically, fixing a few strings at a time -- did all the really buzzy ones first, then just started going down the line. But, here we were yesterday -- recital time! -- and I still hadn't done all the strings. Determined that the instrument should be in top form for the occasion, I got an early start, attacked with renewed zeal, and had got through most of the rest, when I looked at the clock and decided, "okay, parents are on the way, house still looks like a bunch of homeless people -- homeless people with livestock! -- have been camping in it, so one more and the rest will have to wait. I'll just loosen this one here and . . . . POW!"

Yup, broke the sucker on the first turn.

Harp shop is an hour away. Recital was in six hours, an hour and a quarter away in the other direction.

So. Very. Screwed.

I called the shop. Yes! They thought I was nuts babbling something about a 'harp emergency', but they had the string! So I: threw a load of clothes in the wash; jumped in the car; did a kamikaze run to the harp shop (where they very kindly asked if I wouldn't like them to put a stop on the string for me, because there is this complicated knot involved, you know, and not everyone can do it, and they hate to have people get all the way home only to have to drag their harp back -- but remember: I am the great genius of the world! So, naturally, I declined); managed to get home without killing myself or anyone else (miracle); ran up to the loft where the highly offended harp was sitting in a huff, its broken string dangling off its soundboard; and,

"Damn! That is a weird little knot!"

Cussed, swore, and twiddled ('effing genius!') for about fifteen minutes until I finally figured it out; got the string on, just barely remembering to reset the pins first, and started the seemingly endless process of 'tuning it up'. A new string can stretch, which means going steadily out of tune, for hours before it's stable enough to be played:

"You're supposed to be a 'G', damn you!"
"Nyah, nyah! 'F#'!"
"Fine! Hey kid -- just keep tuning this !@#$%^ thing every fifteen minutes, and make sure you check it again before your solo, okay??"

Okay, just enough time left to: gallop down the stairs, throw those wet clothes in the dryer, load the dishwasher, wave a damp dishrag at the stove and counter tops, bathe, and dress -- all the while shouting words of encouragement to HSG and The Boss, of course -- my wisdom being so very indispensable at all times and in all things!

But we did it. The young Harpie and I managed to get ready and get out the door in good time -- whew! Family followed later, but also on time! Recital went really well -- and the effing string held its tuning!

So, yeah, God is good, and I'm an idiot -- what more can I say?

*The man's a saint! He very quickly diagnosed the problem, showed us how to fix it, did the first few tweaks for us, told me where I could find a couple of smaller sockets I'd need, showed us all around his awesome workshop -- where I learned what an amazing artisan this man is, and the astounding value of his time -- and charged us nothing! He and Mrs. Bryan -- and their beautiful rescue Weimaraner and Abyssinian -- were the sweetest, loveliest, most hospitable people a body could hope to meet!