Music moves me

Or, stops me being a miserable son of a bitch.

I woke up this morning and I was in a bad mood. I foul, nasty, black mood.

Why? Well, since you asked….

It started last night. One of the benefits of being a man is the inablility to multi-task. It means you can focus on one thing, you can give it your all and nothing else distracts you. Last night I was trying to start a new book, Masters of Doom by David Kushner, but I wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Not on account of the reading material, but on account of the woman trying to have a conversation with me at the same time.

I’m reading. — You’re talking to me. — Please stop.

I didn’t want to go to sleep on a raw note so I avoided saying, “PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLE NOW!!” I just smiled, tried best to multi-task (see above) and failed.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk, but there is a time and a place, and this is not it. We’ve had all night to talk about- you know, I don’t actually remember a single thing that she attempted to discuss. Proof of the inability to multi-task. ‘I know you’re making noise, but it ain’t going in.’ But we had all evening, if it was important, surely she’d have mentioned it in the several hours prior?

In the end I put my book down and went to sleep. No point in trying to read if someone won’t let ya, and I wasn’t in the mood to talk after being denied my 15 minutes of peace.

This morning Tom came in, it was probably about 4am. He climbed into bed beside me so suddenly I’m trapped between two hot bodies. 5am, and he decides he’s had enough so he gets out of bed and stands on my phone which is – stupidly – left on the floor overnight. Twinkle-toes-Tom manages to call someone who, despite my attempts to end the call, promptly phones me back. 5am and I’m trying to figure out who called me and why. 5.15am, Tom is back in bed and kicks me in the jaw.

Enough is enough. I’m up. I decided I’d go for a run, but I can’t because my kit is in the wash. So I decided to iron a shirt for work and managed to spread burnt black polyester across the white cotton. I’m at the point of going postal.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Iron another shirt. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Grab my iPod and leave the house. I turned on the music and things started to improve right away. First with Marmaduke Duke’s Rubber Lover followed by Tenacious D doing Tribute.

Suddenly everything is right with the world.

  1. Totally agree. Songs are like bookmarks in the brain, teleporting me back to happier or sadder times with the beat of a drum. Yesterday I was food shopping and trekking the Patagonain Andes at the same time. I love music.

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