Top of Lungs

I find myself singing in stores a lot lately. I maintain it's not my fault...I totally wouldn't be if they played something horrible, but they don't. Take Friday for example. Isaac was home with Sammy, nursing his cold (before lovingly passing it along to me...) and I ran out to take care of a few errands. Store number one:


(regret, new order)

Right? How is one supposed to shop in silence when they play things that simply beg to be sung? I was planning on paying attention to the other songs playing but ran into friends, instead. However...

Not to be outdone, store number two had this going:


(when smokey sings, abc)

I mean, C'mon! Are there people out there impervious to the charms of ABC? If so, I don't want to know. (And do you ever wonder if Martin Fry and Tim Gunn were separated at birth? No? Just me?)

I left the stores clearly in denial. I was choosing to believe that these places have just stumbled on to the greatest music ever made...not that my music is now the stuff of muzak compilations. Denial is much happier.

Everything's good in the world tonight, indeed...