I have a red guitar. It sits in the corner of my room. Right now it must be feeling pretty lonely, since I haven’t paid it much attention in the last few weeks. When I got the red guitar, I named it Maggie. The name just came to me and it stuck. Maggie must be mad at me. She must be wondering why I’m ignoring her. It’s not you, Maggie, it’s me. You are a wonderful, beautiful guitar who deserves better. I can do better.