I dunno. I guess he was cool when I was younger. To "those" guys. The ones in school who swaggered around in their brand-name jeans, pop-cultured hair, video vocabulary, staggering attitude of something. Ya you know those ones. The ones that could only talk about their weekend escapades in the middle of third slot Econ class and their MTV-ish douchebaggery. All souls seemingly lacking in substance and not only ignorant of those around them but annoying the ever-lovin' piss out of those around them. So... empty!
I dunno. I guess I'm tired. Well shyeah, duh! Been running nonstop between new job and all my accompaniment gigs and getting to bed late all the while. I tell ya, I am getting sick of... dare I say it... dare I set the ill side of karma upon me and say... piano-ing!!
Lucky for me, my wonderful husband has been an integral, vital, crucial help in all things domestic, allowing the potential levels of stress to stay sane and for me, sans drama, as I keep hoofing it the rest of this week through one more accompaniment moment (yes, less than a 'gig'--far less) and one more shift of work before going to meet my mother at the airport for the first time ever since living in Canada. What's that, honey? You want me to help around the house? Are you crazy? I mean, are you FRICKIN' KIDDING me? I don't DO housework. I mean. Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for doing all the things I've been putting off because I've been too busy to do or have had issues with or have started to have issues with or just want to pitch a claw hammer through or neglected or misunderstood. Thank you for washing your own underwear and doing the dishes and making the bed and realizing that the kids feeding themselves candy and granola bars and chocolate chip cookies with chocolate sauce and sprinkles on top means that my turn to fix supper really is your turn. I really appreciate that. My full head of hair thanks you. Facebooking task forces thank you.