Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

If words could speak, they’d mean even less*

I’ve been really off lately. A little agro. A lot blue. And, sometimes, a bit gassy.

“What is wrong with her now?” worries my mother. “Why’s she sad?” ponders my pop. “What’s that smell?” my animals ask each other at their daily de-brief.

I can’t quite figure it out. Weekdays are best for me as far as motivation is concerned. Weekends are hard because I like my bed too much already — throw in a little depression and it becomes a grave with me feeling six feet under. How fucked is it that I’d rather it be Monday morning than Saturday afternoon? Pretty fucked. But that’s where I am.

But, yesterday, I think I had a minor breakthrough. As I was getting ready to dash out the door, I decided to run upstairs and see if I had any tapes for the car. “Tapes?” I know what you’re thinking. When Mona died last year, we pulled the cd player out, but it has not been installed in the “new” (1997 Accord) car. So I grabbed my travel case, which was loaded with tapes not heard by these ears in years, and jumped into the car.

First in was “Jellyfish“, and OH MY GOD! I’m singing! Out loud! At the top of my lungs! And I remember every word from this 1990 cassette like I had just listened to it yesterday. That’s when I realized, I don’t sing anymore. Ever.

When PJ was around, I just sort of fell out of the habit of listening to music around the house because, as comfortable as I was with him, I was too embarrassed to sing around him. Then when my cd player was gone, I didn’t have the option of singing in the car. My sanctuary. Because, as much as I LOVE The Current, they play so much variety that I can’t ever quite get all of the lyrics to a song. And I’m so spoiled with ad-free radio that I refuse to listen to the other stations.

Even though I listen to music all day at my desk, there has been a huge void in my life that I didn’t even realize. I need to sing. Badly. Really. Very poorly. But I need it. This morning, I sang along with 311, explicit lyrics and all.

It’s like a time warp in my car…but I am so relieved. And, not so gassy anymore. Huh.

*Lyrics from “The King is Half Undressed”, Jellyfish - which I belted out three times in a row on my way to work yesterday.

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