My G string is really bugging me!

AHEM. 

Now that I have your attention, I would like to inform you that having a more-than-passing understanding of physics can only paralyze you in day-to-day life.

It's that time of year again, folks.  The time of year when the snow melts, the gloves at WalMart are on discount, and I take up a new hobby.  I want to learn to play the guitar, but I'm cheap and broke and too far away from my family to steal one of theirs, so instead I broke out my cello.  Which I love.  Unfortunately, I haven't really touched it since before Gabe was born and it's been one cold, dry winter since then.  As a result, the cello is seriously out of tune. 

Enter my A string (saying my G string was bugging me is much more fun).   It's waaaay off.   The other three were close enough to the acceptable striking range of "in tune" to not cause me grief during the tuning process. 

The A string, on the other hand, causes me grief because:

1.  I am cheap.  Too cheap to take cello lessons from a teacher who could tune it, with ease, for me.  Also, too cheap to take it to a reputable cello dealer/repair guy.
2.  I am smart.  Smart enough to be a menace to cellos everywhere because I can piece together how to do stuff on my own, but not smart enough to do aforementioned stuff with technical proficiency OR efficiency.
3.  I am prideful.  I can figure out how to do it on my own, thank you very much.  Even if it does take me forever and a day and I probably mess things up badly in the process.

The result of that array of variables is that my husband and children are huddled downstairs in front of the glowy box while I curse my A string. 

The cursing is rooted in fear because (here comes the physics) as I turn the peg to raise the pitch of the string, part of my brain is thinking about the forces in play on the A string and how, while those forces are the reason for the beautiful notes, that A string is a bunch of potential energy just waiting to be converted into kinetic energy that could do serious damage to my eye.

OK, let me explain:  that's one taut string (it's supposed to be) and once, while tuning a violin, the E string snapped and hit my eye.  Or it would have, except my glasses got in the way.

 Thank heavens big, clunky glasses were the vogue when I was in high school.  Or that I thought they were.

So now, whenever I deal with that frappin' A string, I think about that E string, physics, and putting on sunglasses just in case.

But I got the cello tuned.  The string is still in one continuous piece and my eyes are unscathed. 
Not bad all around.

Up next in the series on why physics is responsible for my existence as a scaredy cat:  "The equation F=ma^2:  the reason I don't like heights."