I magically found myself with a few days off and so here I sit on my couch, taking a break from scrubbing couch cushions, picking stickers off the wood floors, the blinds and the bottom of my socks, and wondering when I got this new freckle on my stomach and then realizing it was a piece of frozen pancake a certain little girl tried shoving down the front of my shirt this morning. Apparently cleavage pancakes are really really funny to a 2-year-old. Oh yes, be very jealous of the glamorous life I lead, I have food freckles.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had more than an hour before bed to put something other than Barney (shudder) or Caillou (kill me) on the tv and thanks to Pandora and DirectTV, I’ve had music blaring out of my living room all morning. And with every song, I’m being reminded of how much I adore music and how no matter what, there will always be a song that explains life at that very moment as if the singer is singing directly in my ear because they wrote the song just for me. And then there are the songs that somewhere along the way, I’ve claimed as my own, songs I could listen to for days and days, songs that I don’t ever feel the need to shout from the rooftops, that’s my song! when I hear them because I’d rather close my eyes and soak them up into my whole body like a sponge. Pearl Jam’s Release, U2’s All I want is You, Coldplay’s Fix You, they get me every time. I don’t know what it is about music that just makes life so much better. Maybe it’s just knowing that someone else has felt exactly what I felt at some point and they thought enough to write it down, pair it with a few notes and describe my life to a T better than I ever could have. I don’t get jazz, I don’t like country, and classical I could give or take, but you give me some Pearl Jam, Paul Simon or John Mayer, and I’m in my happy place.
Just sitting here in the Beatles’s romper room, enjoying my day very much. Happy Friday.