not amused
It’s a warm and sunny early evening. Pre-dinner. We have changed into our loungewear/pjs already and are laying about like slugs on the couch, in the warm sun, like our kitties. Sly gets up to make salad dressing for a salad we never end up eating. I impersonate Cher, singing “Do You Believe In Love” in the worst way possible. Sly is not amused. I find the song on Spotify and play it — over and over and over — and then find another Cher song and another.
Soon we are listening to all kinds of songs, prefacing each with, “remember this one?” and “how about this?” or “I got one!” Our playlist spans songs by Counting Crows, Radiohead, 311, Jane’s Addiction, NIN, Blur, Breeders, STP, Third Eye Blind, No Doubt, and countless other 90s bands. Eventually we end up on Sugar Ray which always brings laughs — along with the sad realization that we can pretty much sing along to every single song. Needless to say I won’t be DJing any parties any time soon.
We pop open some Somersby apple cider and dance with the kitties. We may or may not look like this.
The kitties are not amused. But we certainly are.
