282/365 The Cage

Sr. Hildegard took me to the cage today. In the basement of the church behind the raised section that's kind of like a stage, there's a door. Again with the doors I don't notice. Inside that door is a heap of stuff--not literally for the most part--for picnics and barbecues and raffles and janitor supplies and all sorts of things. And then, past the first door, is an iron grate. A cage door.

Yikes? Not really. She unlocked the padlock and we stepped inside. The sound equipment was behind the locked cage. A sort of workroom. Kneeler parts, extension cords, old boxes of doodads that used to go to something. And a box of hammers, which made me laugh because I have often used the phrase "dumb as a box of hammers". I know the usual is a bag of hammers, but I always have preferred the /ks/ sound with box in that phrase. Sounds more intentional or something.

She showed me the speakers. The cords. The cart. Everything we'd need to project sound throughout a sea of 200 people on Saturday night.