Earphones and Music

Holy Cow!! I just found out those white things sticking out of people’s ears are wireless earphones. It’s true, even the twins have them. I should have known sooner, but I didn’t realize so many people need to listen to music everywhere they go. I had previously thought they were a new style of designer earplugs designed to block out all background noise or tell people they weren’t in the mood to talk.


Ivy has wireless earphones, but they are black and connected to each other. She uses them to pretend she can’t hear me. Sometimes I do the same thing but, I don’t use earphones. Elaine uses earphones with wires connected to her phone. She doesn’t listen to music, just books; 1009 of them. She is really good at pretending.


I don’t listen to as much music as I did when I was a kid, but it amazes me how some people need it all the time. Music is usually played by someone on construction sites. I’m not a fan of that. If I need to talk to someone for instruction or to keep someone safe, I don’t want to yell over the music.


If I’m in a vehicle, I have on sports talk or talk radio, until Elaine says, “Do you mind if I turn this off?” It really doesn’t matter because her hand is on the dial before the words come out of her mouth.


Lately, I have been listening to music, mostly at work. Mostly at work, because I am tired of telling people to turn it off. I don’t understand any of the words. Most of it sounds like it is a language that is not English (It is not). Some of the music is beer. Some are about fishing with someone else’s girlfriend. Some are just loud and painful.


This past week I was alone doing construction paperwork on the computer before anyone else arrived at work. It was quiet and I decide to listen to some music on my computer. Usually, I listen to sports talk or Medical Monday to get the latest on the beervirus. I was listening to my style of music, southern rock! Lynard Skynard, 38 Special, Marshall Tucker, or the Allman Brothers band. You know, from when music was really music.


As the crews arrived, I continued on, minding my own business. After about an hour, a drywall installer tapped me on the shoulder and asked in heavily accented English:


Drywaller: Do you like this music? Me: Yes


He stood for a second just looking at me. It was apparent he had something on his mind.


Me: Do you like this music? Drywaller: Yes, do you know Alan Jackson? Me: Yes Drywaller: I like his song, this sounds like Alan Jackson’s song. Me: Yeah, I can see that. Drywaller: Is this singer from Colorado? Me: No, I believe he was from Tennessee. (It was Charlie Daniels) Drywaller: What is the name of this song? Me: The Devil went down to Georgia. Drywaller: I like it.


Well, it was apparent someone didn’t like it. Twenty minutes later, the drywall crew turned on a radio blaring music with lyrics I did not understand. The crew evidently understood the lyrics but knew the melodies, also.

They could (and did) sing along with the radio. It was painful. Two DRYWALLERS singing in a language I could not understand, occasionally on key. In fairness, one guy was a better singer than the other. I when back to sports talk. Hey if you can’t beat them, leave them.


Elaine is preparing for her upcoming shows. She has been weaving her fingers (all ten) to the bone. The new color patterns were MY suggestions. That is important knowledge to no one but me. We have been getting new fixtures almost daily to freshen up and simplify her booth. That information is important to no one but me. I will be carrying the stuff.


Elaine has convinced her sister to come along at least one show. It should be fun. Not the carrying and lifting part. Stay tuned for more info. We have yarn for you guys. I know this because I mowed around the storage containers just yesterday. In the old brick and mortar mowing was by the landlord. Even with that, it’s better now, although I miss the naps in the mezzanine.


Our crazy lives!


Monner

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