I sing. Loud and long and hard. Not particularly well. Actually, particularly poorly. I don’t know all the words. I make them up as I go along. I don’t do karaoke. Usually while I’m cooking. Maybe in a car. Potentially walking down the street. Not in the shower.
And quite often, while I work. Whistling while you work is for chumps. I break out in song.
This morning my kid was playing quietly as I worked in the next room and I forgot myself. I’m used to working from home and having the entire place to myself. I can sing, leap, twirl, talk to myself, or do my own version of that scene from Risky Business though I use a lint-roller instead of a candlestick. I leaped across the hall from my room to the bathroom singing a very loud raucous rendition of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror I changed the lyrics to work in the fact that I need to wax my brows and dye my hair… because, well, I’ve been home with a sick kid for nearly a week and that doesn’t leave a lot of time for personal grooming.
Being used to my tendency to break out in song she didn’t say a word. Just continued to play quietly but as I danced back into the hall and I heard her cough it occurred to me for a moment that I ought to maybe quiet down and keep my loud workday antics to myself. Which is when I realized how lucky my co-workers are that we’re not actually in an office because rather than quieting down I began singing louder in the hopes she would join in.
Because this is my comfort zone. This is my home. And given enough time in any environment I think I’d act the same way.
Next up my own personal remake of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” using recipe ingredients. After that I’m open to requests.