So I'm sitting at a red light, sun beating down on me and flipping stations on the radio, trying to psych myself into the good mood that is usually my dafault. So far, all the checks on my To Do List are starting to make a dent in my funk, but it's only a dent. I'm really, really looking for something to kick me over, deep into the territory of Happy Chick Mode.
Music usually does it for me, so I'm feeling hopeful.
So how, I ask you, did it come to be that I know every single word to Bad, Bad Leroy Brown? Can't tell you. Don't know. Nobody listened to Jim Croce in my house when I was growing up. I don't recall that it was particularly cool for us children of the 80's to listen to his music. Never mind that. It seems that I can tell you with great confidence that I can sing every single word to this song.
Know what? It kinda' cheered me up, singing that old song.
I can't be too sure about the people waiting at the light beside me, but fortunately it's not too likely I'll be running into them again anytime soon...