Dear little old lady singing loudly and badly in the booth next to me in the quiet restaurant;
Thank You.
I needed a reminder that song is an eruption of joy, not a staged performance reserved for practiced professionals.
I can’t recall ever getting this much enjoyment from Lionel Ritchie’s Three Times A Lady in my entire life.
Thank you, tone deaf Grandma.
Keep singing, old girl. Keep singing.
I feel I have worked enough for one lifetime. I would now like to retire and live out my days in relative quiet. Maybe write a novel or that zombie screenplay I’ve been trying to get onto paper. Mainly just sleep in and volunteer at community stuff and whatever school or events my kids are currently into. Anyone have a spare $1M? I promise to be incredibly grateful.
Little Miss Thing, age 3: “I am going to push all my macaroni onto the table.”
The Wonderful Wife: “Why in the world would you do that?”
LMT: “I like to watch you clean.”
WW, glaring at me: “No one will ever need a paternity test to know that you made this child.”
Very Vocal Viking 