I went to the gym near my office at Monday to wail on my lats and delts. After crushing it like I always do, I showered up and started getting changed, keeping my head down to try to avoid the dangly, furry balls of the chit-chatting geriatrics around me who qualmlessly let all their shit hang out. Amazing how much of an impact gravity can have on a ballbag. But I digress. As I was changing, I heard a familiar beat on the radio. It took me a moment to process it, but then I immediately remembered what it was and how I knew it. It's the scene below, from the second movie I ever saw on a VCR. Raiders of the Lost Ark was the first, if you want to know. I watched both with my dad. Nothing more awkward as a kid than seeing a pair of boobies on the telly when your parents were in the room. But I digress again. Let's get back to this awesome awesome tune.
Well, amid a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week for me, that song has worm-holed its way into my head. And yes, if you're asking, I do. I do want to funk. Right now. And I'm not even sure what it means. Is it fucking? Doing drugs? Dancing? Getting drunk? Dressing like a woman in a sequined top? Putting Kools out on a Persian carpet? Any/all of the above? I'd be game for about all of those right now. NJ Transit is self-combusting, The job is bringing stress from all angles. I am fighting politics amid the stressful travel soccer tryout season in my neck of the woods. And I came to the realization that I can no longer keep scotch in my house b/c I will pound it down with excessive aplomb.
But Friday is here. I'm working from home. It's 80 degrees today and will be just as warm tomorrow. The landscapers mulched up my yard so it looks nice. And I will be able to watch my oldest kid play in an oddly scheduled soccer game at 430. So maybe life is not so bad. And maybe for me, funking is just mowing the lawn with a podcast playing in my ears under the hot sun. And maybe that's okay.