driving home from work tonight, cruising down the freeway, Kim Wilde's You Keep Me Hangin' On starts pumping through the speakers (now, on my way to work i had been responsibly listening to NPR like any reasonable and past-her-club-kid-days adult would be~i'm not sure how that ipod found its way into car play...hmmm...) and before i know it, the volume has suddenly and amazingly turned itself up full blast, my body has thrown itself into its car-dancing thing, and i seem to be belting out the lyrics, through no fault of my own~hey, taking no responsibility for one's own actions seems to be the Modern American Way of Life does it not? i'm just following suit~when it suddenly occurs to me: "This can be a dangerous song," (and me without my seat belt~not sure how that happened but it did~i'm admitting it~every once in a while i forget)
So i contemplate that thought for about...
well, less than a second, hit the replay button, and then i continue on my very merry way with reckless (and, dare i add) youthful abandon.
Next up, ipod offers Salt-N-Pepa which seems to perfectly go with my flow, though the cats seem just a wee bit frightened when i come bopping in the front door, blasting It Ain't None of Your Business, loudly making like a rap star in their little feline faces. But it Really does not hurt to remind them that I AM The Mistress of the House ~if only in name, every now and again.
Nor does it hurt to relive (flashback to) our reckless, impetuous, youthful days of vice and abuse and misled beliefs that we were immortal, every now and again while we can (hopefully) still live through it, RIGHT?