I love music, all sorts of genres, artists. My iPod is crammed full of my favorite songs.
That being said, it is other people’s music that gets on my nerves. I can hear it even better than they can. This is because it is played so *%^#@! loud. The contractors working on a house, the tree fellers, and Power Company, all make a lot of their own noise, which is why they turn up the volume.
I completely get wanting tunes while you work. I wear my iPod when I clean or ask Alexa to play something for me.
It never occurred to me to share my music with the entire neighborhood. I am selfish in that regard. I assume that not everyone in earshot is a fan of Aerosmith or Billy Idol. I also keep Guns and Roses to the confines of my earbuds.
So many times a week I have to suppress the knee-jerk response when they turn up their boom box. I want to scream out my window –
“Tomorrow we are listening to MY playlist!”
and my personal favorite,
“Hey!, Loud music attracts bears, ya know!”
I do love our local musician who plays the trumpet. He wraps up his evening selection (two or three classical tunes) with Taps. Then he stops. It could be that she stops, I am assuming that males are more inclined to play the trumpet.
Now that I am pondering this, it is possible we are not even talking about a trumpet. It could be a saxophone. Maybe even an Obo. The only string instrument I know is the piano. I don’t care if it is a clarinet or a kazoo. It is beautiful. Hubby and I always stop what we are doing and just listen. The dog even listens.
It is always at dusk when he plays, so I can’t wander about in the forest to figure out who it is. Someday, I hope to figure it out. I just want to send a Thank You card. Maybe, some cookies.
Do tunes shuffle through your brain like it is your personal iPod?
I have often found myself listening to a soundtrack of my day that no one else can hear. Sometimes, I hum whatever is playing, as if hearing it is just not enough.
I love music. Not so much, the stuff playing inside my brain. Often my brain’s line-up has annoying songs, or worse, jingles, shuffling around. I have a real iPod that I use to replace brain tunes with music I really like – and that works great – until the battery dies.
I will tell you about the two torcherous attacks by songs my family and I survived. Both happened in the same week. Now that I think of it, they may have occurred on the same day.
The last place I want to be is in the Los Angeles area in July. Triple-digit temperatures, clogged roads, and way too many grumpy people. That being said, we only had our kids during the month of July, so that is when we made plans for our vacation. Although hubby and I experience the traveler’s curse, we did not give that a thought as we packed. This was a family vacation to Disneyland, not a couple’s getaway.
Ha! You can’t pull one over on a curse we learned that trip. Our package included 3 days at the park, shuttle to and from our Hotel and the Hotel had a wonderful breakfast – all included. The first day we were getting into the park early so we could meet the characters. Life was good.
The line into the Park for us early birds was moving along well and the heat was another couple hours away. We were all getting excited. That was until the T-shirt police pulled hubby and I out of line and informed us that we were not allowed into the park.
The reason? We were wearing offensive T-shirts. They suggested we go back to our hotel and change – then come back to the park. This would take a good 20 – 30 minutes and our kids would miss meeting the characters. Sigh. We were humiliated and embarrassed in front of our kids.
At least one of the T-shirt cops took us aside and told us that most people would go into the restrooms in the parking lot and turn their shirts inside out – hiding the naughty shirt, and not wasting valuable play time. Weird! But we followed this recommendation and we all got to get in early to meet the characters and see the newly opened “Star Tours” exhibit without having to wait in line.
That ride was one of the best and we all wanted to get back on the moment we ‘landed’. Except for our daughter, who turned white as a sheet and hung on for dear life, completely believing that we were flying to the moon of Endor in a space shuttle.
The girls wanted to go on the “It’s a small world” ride. My daughter and I were outnumbered by males, but they were game since the ride was indoors with airconditioning. A good plan indeed – except for one little glitch…
The ride lost power halfway through and we sat in the dark, our boats not moving and the A/C quickly fading. By some miracle, the sound system played on, “It’s a small world after all…”, the only song the ride played. Over and over, and over again. Thirty minutes of that song could drive people mad. This was probably the reason everyone in our family totally lost it on the shuttle ride back to the hotel when the piped in music, Disney of course, got stuck and repeated the same song over and over. The song had a very distinctive beginning – “HEIGH-HO!!”. After the third time, the tune played, we as a family waited for the song to start again. As loud as we could, we chimed into “HEIGH-HO!!” Had we planned this, it would not have been so awesome. We could not stop laughing (unless it was time for doing the “HEIGH-HO!!”.
As we arrived at the hotel, the music stopped. One of the other passengers turned to me and said, “Do you mind my asking why your T-shirt is on backward?” Before I could answer I noticed that her shirt was on backward also.
“Old Fart’s Wife,” I confessed.
“Sexy Momma,” she said.
We nodded knowingly. Each of us with a sly smile as we entered into the lobby.