Listening to Counting Crows
I’ve had enough now. I’m tired. I’m fed up of living out of a suitcase and packing up every day or every few days. I’m longing to get dressed from clothes out of a wardrobe. To not eat from roadside restaurants. To sleep in my own bed, not next to one of or both of my kids. Don’t get me wrong. I love snuggling up to my babies. But I need some space right now.
We’re in the car on our way from Las Vegas to Death Valley. We had a bit of a disagreement over what music to listen to. We’ve done Eagles and stuff to death. I put on my Five Star mix on Spotify and was enjoying a couple of songs but he didn’t like the songs I out on. So I quickly scanned the albums and put on Counting Crows. The problem is this entire album makes me think of “us”. It was “our” music. And he’s just singing along to the music gleefully without any indication that it makes him think of the old “us”. In fact I don’t think he has a sensitive bone in his body where this kind of thing is concerned.