I don’t often do it, mostly because I don’t remember, and it’s a little bit awkward, but the other day on my travels into Corporate Land, I remembered to plug my iPod into my ears.
I even remembered to press play.
I don’t have one of those fandangled devices what makes phone calls, and allows you to stalk people on social medias, and send messages via a variety of means that also plays mah tunes.
Nope, I have a music-playing thingo only. The Classic at that.
Some time back, my then twelve-or-thirteen-year-old plugged his own iPod (the touchy kind) into my PC, and the next time I plugged mine in, I ended up with all his pickings on my device. Mostly this was horrendously horrible.
It wasn’t all bad, though, I realised.
As my music spurred me on during my walk to the train station, I went through my songs list. Thus, when I boarded the train, and even a few moments before, I was selecting specific songs that made me smile.
I am also blessed with an affliction; aside from my overpacking of underpants for short getaways, and laughing hysterically at things that should most definitely not be laughed at. Yes, I have the affliction that prevents me from not dancing when I listen to music.
Be it at home, in the supermarket, at restaurants, in the car … or listening to my iPod on the train.
It’s not full on, arms flailing, pole dancing, grinding up against other passengers sort of dancing. Just some shoulder moving, bopping, and, as the tune calls for it, a little bit of bum wiggling.
As I was bouncing and bopping away to