I take the guitar down from the wall, put the strap over my shoulder, grab a pick from the bin. And play.
The guitar sounds good (it is a Martin, after all). I strum chords, pick out bass runs, play around with scales and solos.
It sounds good, but it could sound better. It's not as vibrant as I'd like. It feels subdued, muffled.
I know why.
The strings are old. The high E and B are covered with grime from my fingers – sweat, dirt, dust, who knows what else.
The once bright copper shine of the G and the D and the A and the low E is now a dull brownish sludge color.
I'm lazy. Haven't changed the strings for months. Why should I? No gigs, no rehearsals, no recordings. Just a guy stuck in his house playing guitar between calls.
Nothing motivating me to spend the ten minutes and the ten bucks to swap out the strings.
Until I do.
Like I have thousands of times. Not surprised that the new strings make the guitar sound better, make it feel better in my hands, make me a better guitarist, make me a happier person.
Why don't I do this more often? It's so much fresher and brighter and cleaner and crisper and more representative of the true quality of the instrument and of the player.
And I trust that you understand and appreciate and take to heart the extended metaphor.