I can’t really be held responsible for any of what I’m about to write because I just spent the last 30 minutes or so working out all by myself with really really loud music in my ears.
Which equals sanity after a long day of the roller coast of emotions that is a 6 year old. Not bad, really. Just exhausting.
Also? I haven’t been alone since we packed ourselves in a car and left Michigan. Alone with out children, that is. Or the husband. Actually alone. By myself.
We’ll call this recharging the batteries and resetting those godawful expectations.
The biggest thing lacking in our apartment back home is music. Because we live above someone I have a hard time really letting it rip while we’re home – and we packed away our speakers. I like the quiet actually but music has some other affect on me that I can’t explain either. Like air. And water.
I can appreciate the artists that are “cool” now or so uncool that they catch on. I get music, I don’t remember most of it but I can appreciate almost all kinds – but what I love … LOVE LOVE LOVE … dancing music. Happy, sad, melancholy, otherwise. I love it.
Not unlike this:
Sometimes a girl just needs to dance.