I sang loudly. In the emptiness of my car. With no one to tell me to hush. If you like pina coladas…and gettin’ caught in the rain… There’s no one quite like Jimmy Buffet to make my lonely heart sing.
JD’s been out of town for the past few days and I kinda, sorta miss him telling, asking, begging me to stop singing. I think I’m the next American Idol contender, but he thinks I’d get kicked out of a karaoke joint any night of the week. Whatever. I continue to sing loudly because singing makes me happy. Lighter. When things are swirling madly around my heart and mind, melodies bring me back home.
When JD arrived home today, I immediately started singing, Do yoooooooou like pina coladas…and gettttttttin’ caught in the rain… the minute he walked in. Before his bags hit the floor, he was rolling his eyes. But I don’t care. Because singing makes me happy.
And singing is so much less annoying than rubbing your spouse’s face in your armpit. Yes. Oh, yes. Because in case you’re wondering, that’s exactly what JD did to me last week after I sang him a song about how fresh he smelled after a late-night run.
It’s nice to know the romance takes on different shapes after a while. The shape of a c-sharp gone bad. The shape of girl trying to free herself from a warm armpit. And the shape of two people loving each other in spite of it all.
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