Friday, December 11, 2009

Misplaced sense of obligation? / Solo dance party

I just straightened up my house in preparation for a visit from... the Gas Man, who is coming to relight our pilot lights (they did a little work outside today on our street - we all got new pipes).

This does not speak highly of my (admittedly horrible) housekeeping skills. Then again, maybe if we had visitors more often, perhaps my home would be cleaner more often, too. (Usually I only clean when my parents are coming over, or for my catsitter, who as of yet has not commented on the state of my home while we were in Vegas over Thanksgiving, but I'm sure he could, especially in regard to the mammoth furballs we seem to create.) Yep, we need more guests. Maybe I should plan a Rizzoli Christmas party during the actual holiday season, if it's not too late already.

Hang on, I have to go make the bed. Surely he won't be going in the bedroom but it is sort of visible from the living room.


After the gas man left (his name was "Gato," by the way. Seriously? Gato?), I turned the music back up (I had been listening to my iPod while I straightened up; the song playing when I shut it down was some Pearl Jam song), my iPod played "Linger," by the Cranberries, and "Kid," by the Pretenders, and then? Then my iPod hit me with some English Beat. I had started feeling good during "Linger," then couldn't help but sing along with "Kid," but when "Mirror in the Bathroom" came on, I was struck by the unfamiliar desire... to dance.


I turned it up, made sure all the doors were locked, and proceeded to dance around my living room like it was the 9th grade again, and I was at Leadership Camp. The only difference? It wasn't all that dark, and Michelle Broadus wasn't leading the way (that girl could dance). I think those Leadership Camp dances were the last times I ever danced in public, or with someone (Patrick and I like to do a few moves in elevators sometimes but that hardly counts). Nobody was here except the cats, and they were all bundled up under the blankets in the bedroom (obviously the bed never got made), but for about 30 minutes, I pretty much bounced around like Belinda Carlisle in those old Go Go's videos (or the Police, in the video for "Don't Stand So Close to Me"), only not as good. I was definitely leading with my elbows.

I'm all sweaty now, and "I Just Can't Stop It" is still playing in the living room, and I need to practice my flute and finish the laundry before I have to go to Santa Monica for "The Trojan Women," but if a good song comes on next (ooh, maybe "Best Friend" - that's a great song), I'm going back onto the 7x5 rug and, um, cutting it.

See you later.

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