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She Couldn’t Hear The Storm
And we both thought that was funny
Several years back, I drove home from work accompanied by booming thunder and lashing rain.
When I arrived home, my wife was playing a Thunderstorm album on the house speakers. That’s something we usually reserve for an afternoon nap, but she wasn’t napping.
I chuckled and jokingly asked if she knew that the real thing was happening outside. She said that she was aware but added: “I can’t hear it that well in here.”
We both laughed at the absurdity of having Siri play this while Nature herself raged just outside our door. I guess it was amusing at the time, but it was also a warning that her hearing was deteriorating.
Sex and drugs and rock and roll!
Well, rock and roll, for sure.
We were dancing fools for many years. I’ve written about that many times. The short version is that I have no rhythm, but my wife was the gal who tore up the dance floor. Because I love her to pieces and then some, we went dancing frequently.
It wasn’t dancing to the gentle strains of a waltz or swaying around the floor to slow love songs. It was rock, hard rock, soft rock, fun rock, rock around the clock, and most of all, LOUD rock.
