My Day (Original Soundtrack)

I have watched so many cartoons and slapstick movies that it is difficult at best to do even routine, daily tasks without adding sound effects. If I take a cap off of a pen, I make a popping sound akin to popping a champagne cork. I make racecar sounds while pushing the grocery cart. Let's face it. Those little sounds just make the day (somehow) more interesting.

The other habit I acquired throughout my life is listening to music while performing some of these same tasks. After all, what is life without a soundtrack? Sometimes I give songs the Weird Al treatment while I shower ("HE'S A FACE…WASH…HE---ROOOOOO….GOT SUDS IN HIS EYYYYYYYYYYYYYES"). Other times, I would play the boom box while puttering around the house. I might even occasionally sing along with the tune or even (Heaven forbid) dance. Mind you, I have about as much talent for dancing as Bob Dylan has for diction (the difference is that Dylan is nonetheless a bajillionaire).

This habit grew by leaps and bounds when I acquired a portable media player. I have more than 4500 audio tracks to lay out the soundtrack to my day. This nifty little gadget has become like having another appendage. I can fit it into a shirt pocket or wear an armband to hold it for more convenient use. The armband is great for listening while I am shaving. I even situate the ear buds so that the cables don't get coated with foam. Life just becomes less mundane.

My music choices are pretty much random. James Brown has helped me make my bed. I have walked on a treadmill while Susan Tedeschi told me how bad it hurt. I have picked up groceries while Stevie Ray Vaughan had issues with the weather because the sky cried. I have put said groceries away while Ole Willie mused about the slipping of time (which is funny when you think about it). If you brush your teeth while The Commodores are playing, your teeth get really clean by the time you're done. I have even sung with Shania Twain while surfing the net. I have to be careful about that though. I don't ever want anyone to hear me say that I feel like a woman. After all; once bitten, twice shy (to quote Ian Hunter). I have even typed my blog while Ray Charles sings of our mutual home state of Georgia (I could listen to THAT song the whole day through).

So, if you I don't immediately respond to you when you approach me, I'm not (necessarily) ignoring you. I am probably listening to Stryper sing about being a soldier. Now, what did I do with that yellow and black outfit?