Smooth Operator?

The best part about doing work that doesn't require too much reading (such as recording grades on a spreadsheet) is listening to music with lyrics. Hmm, that's the title of a Hugh Grant movie. How, oddly quaint. Anyway, it still has to be soft music, so today I chose Sade, naturally. She is so soothing, but I feel old when I listen to Sade at night while I'm working. Not 27 old, but 40 something old, as though I've worked all day, made dinner for my family, tucked my insolent children into bed (yes, my imaginary children are assholes), my husband is off snoring on the couch, and I'm getting some late night work in. Thankfully, I lack most of these things. Don't get me wrong, I look forward to my eminent union (heh), but he's certainly not the snoring on the couch type. You know what I'm talking about; horse-shoe balding, pot-belly, ill-fitting slacks, half undone die, one leg sprawled on the couch while the other dangles off causing his pants to hug his lack-luster ballsack. Uhhh. The other things I thankfully lack, though society looks down on me I'm sure, is a practical job, and of course, children. Don't get me wrong, kiddies are at times okay, but I simply have no room for them on my bookcase right now (or closet, in case SW is reading...don't bother, it's far too complex and inexplicable to those who don't see the reason behind owning 10 coffee machines to understand. See, it all leads into something else. Threads and threads of incomprehensible insanity. I blame the Anglo-Saxon scholars for this, especially John M. Hill - the man who wrote Beowulf).

Let's get back to what I was pondering. Why does music that I like so much, particularly at night, make me feel unlikable and old? I know I'm no teenaged spring chicky, but I'm not exactly old. In fact I can prove it - today at Trader Joe's the very nice cashier lady gave me a grape flavored sucker for going with my mommy. See?!