Cumberland Sunday morning, just a little east of there

I got up relatively early, while most of the house seemed to be still resting in the arms of Lethe, and I read for awhile, tried to get the television to operate, then pulled the computer out and went downstairs to partake in a tradition which is more honored in the breach than in the observance.

Knoxville has a radio station which broadcasts traditional music and sponsors a lot of concerts in Knoxville. On Sundays, they have a program called Cumberland Sunday Morning. The religious music is all traditional and I really enjoy the programming.

But for some reason, I couldn't make the radio pick up the station in order to listen. You must understand that I have a narrow window in which to listen to this station, because the music they ordinarily play is so traditional that most of the occupants of this house haven't developed a taste for music this raw and traditional.

So basically, I had a short time where I could pick up the station and listen to the music before the other denizens came down and frowned until I changed the channel on the radio. Taste, unfortunately, is such an individual matter.

But, as I said, I couldn't pick up the channel and I know it will be this evening when I am back in Kate's car, all alone, and will be able to listen to the music on that channel again.

It is now time to put the computer down and drink some orange juice.