Dance Party for One

I am living in a partially furnished, temporary rental. I could live here for the next month. I could move next week. I could linger here for a year. I have no idea how long I will be here, but I am grateful for the place to rest my head each night, and for the flexibility it affords.

The term “partially furnished” means, in this case, a couple of huge TVs, a chair and ottoman, a dining room table, and kitchen cabinets full of stuff I don’t plan to use. It also means a library of DVDs, CDs, and VHS tapes.

“He left you the TVs and all of these?” my movers asked a week ago (which now feels like a thousand years ago) as they plunked my minimal amount of stuff in the middle of the open living area.

“All of what?” I asked.

“These,” the lead mover laughed, pointing at the racks of plastic cases.

“I guess so,” I said, caring less.

“Ah, man. That is sweet!”

Sure. Sweet. Whatever.

A week later, on a rainy and sad night, when I still could not figure out how to use the satellite TV, I decided to peruse the CDs.

A person’s choice in music says much about them. I admit that, on some level, I might cringe were someone to review my Nano’s playlist: “Good Lord, RG, what the hell kind of mix is this–lullaby renditions of U2, Mandy Moore, Death Cab for Cutie, Tom Petty, the Go Gos, Eliot Morris, Grateful Dead, Al Green, some random song from an Italian opera, and Daddy Yankee? What kind of a freak are you?”

Let’s just say, I know what I like. As everyone does.

My landlord is younger than I am, but he apparently has a wide range of musical tastes spanning multiple decades that are represented on his wall of forgotten jewel cases. From Limp Bizkit to Tori Amos to Bach to Joni Mitchell–what kind of freak is he? Probably not one, either.

No matter, last night I decided to play the familiar and the unfamiliar on my laptop, even adding some to my library. That’s right, my big-time Saturday night was spent lounging in RG Daughter’s college-logo sweatshirt, too-big sweatpants (stress and angst, the wonder diet) and flip flops–I was a true vision–all the while regaling my sodden memory with lyrics I had not listened to in years.

So fun.

I’m sorry, if you’re going to cry, might as well weep along with R.E.M.

Joni–Good Lord, girl, you quite simply crooned me through college. And can I just say, you were damn good, too. Where are you now? No matter. It was so nice to hear you again tonight.

Salt-n-Pepa–maybe tomorrow.

Ozzy–um, way later.

10,000 Maniacs–can’t wait to play the multiple CDs over multiple evenings.

Oh, and so many years of Madonna. I will save those CDs for the night I feel compelled to dance like no one is watching–since I am pretty sure no one will be 😉