My family checks in to a mountaintop hotel where we've stayed before. On the drive there, my cousin points out the steep ascent from the sea that he has made countless times on his motorcycle. But up in the hills the laws of physics are different. The bellhop finds that his elevator key won't unlock the outer doors of the elevator on the ground floor and shuffles off to find another. After waiting half an hour we decide to take the bus into town for dinner. There in the rustic valley town I see a guitar repairman who has set up shop in a small cafeteria and ask him to adjust the neck of my guitar to get rid of a buzzing on the fourth string. To calibrate his electric screwdriver he chips away at a small portion of the upper lefthand corner of the mural behind him. He finds nothing wrong with the guitar. When we get back to the hotel I submit a review of an album that came out four years ago to a website I stopped writing for three years ago. Only after doing so do I find that my review has been up for over five years under someone else's name. In the comments section I notice two self-promoting banner photographs, one for San Francisco lo-fi folk duo Ramon and Jessica, and the other for my own radio debut on April Fools Day.