Friday, January 02, 2009

Bring on the 80's music!

These few days sans children were supposed to also be sans husband. But because Sean’s plant isn’t building cars any time soon, he’s off this week and is, quite honestly, really messing up my plans.

I’m all for him working on his own projects. Clean out the basement, put Christmas stuff in the attic, sort his socks, whatever. But he’s chosen to begin the day by taking down Christmas decorations and putting all the boxes in the kitchen, making it his command central. No big deal, except the kitchen is my command central and I am not enjoying sharing.

Sharing the space isn’t the worst part. The worst part is he wanted to pick the music.

We have been married 16 years and in that time we have made some very clear lines of demarcation. For instance, he brings home the bacon but I fry it up in the pan. He replaces the toilet paper; I clean the toilets. I fill the trash cans and he empties them. Most importantly, I pick the music and he deals with it.

But this is his vacation, too, so I held my tongue, charged up his iPod and even put it in my iPod dock. And then I did myself in. I said, “It’s ready.”

Preparing myself to be an encourager and enjoy his pick, I braced myself on the kitchen island where I was working on my photo album. And then I heard it. John Tesh’s Hymns Project. You have got to be freaking kidding me. But I succeeded in biting my tongue and attempted to work to a very mellow rendition of Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee. I did okay through Holy, Holy, Holy but drew the line at How Great Thou Art. I was falling asleep.

“Um, honey?” (I feared the dents on my tongue would impede my speech.) “Do you think we could listen to something else? This music’s kind of dragging.”

He agreed, but his next pick wasn’t an improvement: Rocky Point Holiday by the Dallas Wind Symphony.

I am not a music snob. I can enjoy all types of music. But when I am working on my photo albums I do not pick symphonic music. I pick Van Halen or Def Leppard or Jackson Browne or Amy Grant’s Unguarded. I do not pick anything by the Dallas Wind Symphony.

I couldn’t help myself. “Hey, um, Sean. How about something else. Maybe something a bit peppier?”

Defining terms is important in solving problems. Peppier to me meant Journey’s Separate Ways. Peppier to Sean mean 4Him’s Where There is Faith.

I don’t know how much more biting my tongue can take.