Sleep Deprived Thoughts…

Billy Joel has been creeping into my Pandora cycle more and more frequently. Never a bad thing, really.

That said, I woke up at 5 the other morning and resigned myself to remaining conscious, I popped on my Sonos and there he was. My groggy brain had some input as the song played out.

Myrt was stretched out, purring between my crossed legs, so I just started blabbing to her. Color commentating on the song as it went along.

Now, Bill is a real estate novelist

What the hell is that?

Does real estate need to be novelized? You might be able to stretch a novella out of it, but I’m pretty sure the main real estate collateral consists of fliers and pamphlets.

Who never had time for a wife.

Likely story.

And he’s talking to Davey

Oh?

Who’s still in the Navy

Oh?

And probably will be for life.

Myrtle, Bill and Davey are gay.

GAY!

Myrtle gives me a look that suggests I need better hobbies. Or at least hobbies that are less disturbing.

That Billy Joel, man. What a storyteller, eh, Myrt.

<slow blink>

Advertisements
Sleep Deprived Thoughts…

Friday Morning Dance Party

I’m not sure what’s gotten into me this morning, but when I woke up, instead of flipping on the tube, I put on some music. Nothing special, I use Pandora and I’ve been letting the Thumbprint Radio do the heavy lifting for me instead of selecting a specific artist station. I really am enjoying that feature. So I’ve had random great music playing throughout the house as I wander from room to room.

Queen and solo Freddie Mercury

Cranberries and solo Delores O’Reardon

Cowboy Junkies

Genesis and – you guessed it – Phil Collins. Still waiting on some Peter Gabriel

Katy Perry

Sting…but no Police

The Outfield!

Pandora had to dig pretty deep into my musical tastes for that last one…

But all this goodness vibing around my little slice of Portland has had me shaking my groove thing as I’ve puttered through my morning.

While I was making breakfast – oatmeal, I swear – I was dancing in place in front of the stove.

Folding laundry at the counter.

Turning my towel into a dancing prop after my shower.

It’s all made me feel good.

Then I look up after reaching down to dry my legs and see this

She’s so judge-y.

I still laughed. Let her judge. Realistically, she’s probably thinking, “I can’t believe this idiot is who I rely upon for food and water…”

Friday Morning Dance Party