When I’m at a stoplight and a driver in front of me isn’t paying attention once the light turns green because he or she is on his or her phone, I get antsy.
I don’t really get mad, or stay mad, at least, about much. Someone stole my identity once, and the sheriff’s deputy who came to our house to let me know about it asked me why I didn’t seem more upset. Our fence blew over in a storm; I’m not mad, I just feel stupid for not fixing it better the first time. Big things like racism or sexism will make me mad, for example, but little things typically don’t—though I do get antsy. Anxious might be a better term.
The other day a guy at a stoplight was not paying attention and maybe making other drivers who are not so forgiving feeling a little more than antsy.
I was that driver. But I wasn’t on my phone.
I was flipping through my CDs like it was 1997 and I was trying to impress my prom date.
(For my younger readers, if there are any: CDs, or compact discs, are these round plastic disk-like things on which we used to listen to albums—sort of like mini records, or vinyl, if you will. Maybe your parents have some CDs in their home next to their Slap Wraps.)
I still listen to CDs in my car and make custom ones from time to time, too. My CDs work just fine as I take excellent care of them, and I REFUSE to spend money on downloading music when I can burn the same songs for free off one of my CDs.
All 300 or so of them.
Just give me a few hours to find that one song on that one album—assuming I previously put the CD back in the proper case. If not, I’ll need a couple more hours to find it. And hopefully the CD isn’t scratched.
I still have several large boxes of CDs, and as time goes on, I’m less sure about what to do with them. I’m a fan of having less stuff, less clutter in my life, but what will I do with my boxed set of The Doors’ studio albums? What about that awesome Katy Perry album that was factory-made to smell like cotton candy? I bought two of those and left one unopened to retain the aroma. And what would I do without Garbage? (For my younger readers: Garbage is a band.)
I think at some point I will have to simply throw out my CDs, as awful as it seems. I doubt anyone wants to buy them in 2017, or in 2016 or 2007, for that matter, and having boxes taking up space like they do is a stressor. I will try to burn them all to my computer, though, but that will be akin to bagging flies.
Oh, well. At the music will be good.