I listen to music quite a bit, it keeps me sane. Now, fyi, I lean heavily toward hard rock — Van Halen, Eric Clapton, Aerosmith, Styx, Whitesnake — and I don’t skimp on the volume. You can hear me coming from blocks away when I’m in the car, even in the winter. I crank up the volume and sing along at the top of my lungs. Like many drivers, I assume no one’s watching and get carried away. I dance, play air drums, sing backup, sing lead, act the fool. It’s fun and I’ve no pride, so it works out well.
Except indoors. Indoors I have neighbors and they don’t share my love for headbanging music. Or my abiding fondness for loud classical music, either, come to think of it. Therein lies the need for earbuds; I am nothing if not thoughtful. Most of the time, anyway. Well, sometimes. Okay, when I remember.
When I’m on the computer, I usually have music going and I’m free to move around at will. When I’m on the Internet, however, I’m on wi-fi — and in the public eye — so I’m tethered to the laptop with earbuds. The damn cord snags on everything, and I do mean everything. The zipper of my hoodie, my sleeve, the table, the mouse, everything. It’s incredibly irritating.
I’ll be working away, deep in thought, and yoink, I’m yanked back to reality by my earholes. Holy crap, that’s annoying. And it happens repeatedly. The cords are too short and too lightweight and I hate them. So I switched to headphones. That solved one issue — the neurotic cord — and created another: I sing like I’m all alone in the world.
I’m not. People look. People laugh. People roll their eyes. And I rock on, oblivious.
This won’t end well.
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