I have nothing profound or interesting to say about the death of Aretha Franklin, though I spent most of the day listening to her. To be frank, I don’t have anything profound or interesting to say at all today. It’s one of those days where nothing remotely interesting happened or occurred to me.
It was a mundane day filled with the boring tasks of adult life — groceries, cooking, working, cleaning. Even CSA Supperclub was kind of mellow. Mostly we rehashed yesterday’s drama, which was my camp counselor niece discovering she had lice.
This is where you shiver in horror and scratch your head.
The best thing to happen, really, was hearing Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You” on the radio as I went to get groceries. It’s not even my favorite Michael Jackson song (that’s “Bille Jean”), but I love to sing along with this one. Specifically the line, “You gotta feel that heat and we can ride the boogie.” Try it right now, you know how it goes. It’s super fun, right?
It makes me laugh because I always imagine someone riding a giant booger, which is disgusting because boogers and snot make me gag, and yet. . . every. single. time.