Having offered my morning prayers for Rosary Army (please help!) and for my sister (happy birthday!) and my niece (happy santo!), I found the silence in the car deafening, so I popped in a Journey CD.
I then proceeded to crank up the volume and sing at the top of my lungs using as my microphone a spent Expo dry erase marker that was rolling around on the floor of the car. I’ve done this before and generated looks from my fellow commuters. I may be weird, but I have fun.
So, anyway, here I am singing my favorite song, which today happens to be “Loving, Touchin, Squeezin”, due to my angst-filled mood fueled by an uncharitable desire for revenge (or at least some measure of “you had it coming”), and I happily rocked the last 30 minutes of my commute.
I’d like to keep Journey where they belong — in my vinyl memories where I am 17.