Home from work today, I’m trying to get a bunch of junk together for a yard sale we’re having… um… today. So, we’re behind schedule. Bite me.
The house we bought in 1997 had its garage converted into a large bedroom/laundry/bath with its own outside entrance. There’s even a separate refrigerator in there. And it’s right off the kitchen. It would make a pretty cool mother-in-law apartment, actually. I could live there. Just sneak into the kitchen for food and never have to interact with the family again. Brilliant!
Well, it would be except for the fact that we piled every ounce of crap in there that could possibly fit.
It started off as our master bedroom, because that was the only place our king size water bed would fit. But apparently a garage still knows it’s a garage even when you disguise it as a bedroom, because it started to gather junk from day one. When we decided to fix up the place a couple of years ago, we planned on having a yard sale. So, we shoved all the yard sale stuff in there, too. (The yard sale never happened.) Then, we needed a place to put all Dad’s instruments and amps and junk when he died–not to mention my own guitars and crap. And, finally, the garage evicted us completely when the waterbed heater died, making it impossible to sleep on without fear of frostbite.
Some friends of ours gave us a new bed a couple of weeks ago, so at last we’re cleaning out the place. V has spent two weeks doing laundry, getting all the old clothes ready for sale or to take to Goodwill. You can actually see the floor! All I have to do is tear apart the waterbed and find a way to get rid of the old refrigerator.
Of course, I can’t do any of that until I’ve spent an appropriate amount of time sitting on my butt in front of the PC drinking coffee. (It’s the law.)
While doing my blogger duty, I ran across a cool site called Welcome To The Retro Future. It’s a collection of articles from the past about the future. You know, like “in the year 2525…” (God, I hate that song.) One of the articles is about Telstar, the satellite and the song.
“Telstar” was from 1962.
I just finished a song swap with some fellow Lounge Lizards where we were supposed to come up with a CD of songs from our birth year. I got stuck with that suckiest of years: 1962.
1962 was in that no-man’s land between the cutting edge of rock-n-roll and the Beatle Era. Elvis was reduced to putting out one single with a couple of cute ditties (“Good Luck Charm”/”Return to Sender”). Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis… all gone from the charts. Ray Charles had the great “I Can’t Stop Loving You”. But the Beach Boys hadn’t really gotten started yet. Neither had Motown. Love Me Do was the only Beatle song available in 1962, as it came out in England in October. But it wasn’t until January 1963 that the tidal wave got cranked up.
I was born in the middle of a rock-n-roll desert.
All of this is, of course, to remind you that with this upcoming birthday, I will be THE ANSWER. (Anyone who doesn’t get that needs to step to the back of the Heart of Gold and wait for something improbable to happen. Like me making sense.) So, you have but a short amount of time to shower me with prezzies. And I don’t want a drizzle, people. I need a shower! Wait. That didn’t sound right…
I suppose I’ve wasted enough time drinking coffee and making strange double-entendres. I gotta go drain the ole waterbed.
Wait… um… yeah…