Why You Should Be Thankful That You Don’t Live With Me

I don’t know what is going on when I fall asleep each night, but each morning for the past few days I have woken up with the most godawful soft rock oldies hits in my head each morning. And I have sort of loved it.

A few days ago, as I got ready in the morning, I sang to myself:
Some guys have all the luck…some guys have all the pain…some guys get all the breaks…some guys do nothin’ but complain…

Nordic Boy: Wow, really? Rod Stewart at 6:30 am?
Me: You knowing what that song is makes me love you all the harder, my friend.

The next morning.
Me: Ya mo beeee there, (up and ovah)…ya mo be there, (up and ovah yah)
Nordic Boy: Why are you singing that?
Me: Why indeed.

The next morning:
Me: You can do ma-gic! You can have anything! That you desire! MA-GIC! And you know you’re the one who can put out the fire! Youknowdarnwell, whenyoucastyourspell, youwillgetyourway, whenyou HYP-NO-TIZE, withyoureyes! aheartofstone will turn to clay!
Nordic Boy: Why is this happening to me?

This morning:
Me: She’s! Just! Sixteen years old! Leave her alone! They said….
Nordic Boy: NOT THE EDDIE MONEY PEDOPHILE SONG.
Me: If I could fly! I’ll pick you up! And take you into the night! And show you a love! Like you’ve NEEEEVER SEEEN! NEEEVER SEEEEN!
Nordic Boy: I knew there was a line somewhere. And you, sweetheart, have crossed it.

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