a few weeks ago my mom called me... mom: do you have my "john williams soundtracks" cd? me: no...oh wait, james has it. mom: i want my cd back. call him. me: i've actually been trying not to call him lately. i even deleted his number from my cell phone. mom: i want my cd back. call him. me: fine. so i dug out james' number from where i hid it. yes, i realize that since i know where it is, it isn't really a "hiding" place. but i also know myself, and that the temptation to call him will never consume me enough to get off the couch, and rifle through a box full of receipts and ward love notes kept on the top shelf of my closet. (dangit! now you know my hiding place!) with me, laziness always reigns supreme. um...back to the story, i found the phone number and then put into operation a great scheme (a crazy caper, even) involving my downstairs neighbor, a not so real music theory class, and a pressing assignment. my intention of course being to get my mothe...