My first husband used to say that I had such an addictive personality, if he could only convince me to have sex a second time, he'd have it made. I've mentioned this here before, but I guess it bears repeating--cause I've still got the same problem.
Moderation, that is. Never heard of it.
I'm drinking the national debt in Diet Cokes every week, and like my brother's chicken-nugget-hiding dog, I've got M&Ms stashed in every room. I've brushed all the enamel off my teeth, the number and length of my naps alarms my mother, and during my last move I packed 22 boxes of books. Done to excess, even stuff that's supposed to be good for you (like dental hygiene, sleeping, and reading), isn't.
But who would have imagined that NPR could be enjoyed to one's detriment? That's right, Susan Stamberg. Too much NPR is not necessarily a good thing.
I listen to NPR every day. On weekends, I listen all day long. I'm one of those NPR junkies they talk about during pledge drives. And like all good addicts, I abuse my substance of choice to the exclusion of all other things.
I didn't really realize this until my last trip to see my extraordinarily beautiful dentist. His office is located in a town about 40 miles from where I live now (I just can't break up with him and move on), in a small town that is nestled in a lovely river valley. It's very picturesque, but the mountains on all sides make NPR reception spotty at best. Turn left, and you get the 24-hour-Jesus channel; turn right, and Scott Simon comes back.
It's maddening. So last week, I just gave up and turned the radio to a music channel.
And here's the thing about music--whether you prefer blues, jazz, country and western, or all-80s-all-the-time: nothing lifts the pall of everyday drudgery better than 2 minutes, 42 seconds of song. Even if--like me--you weren't particularly aware of needing a lift.
It's so cliche that I forgot.
So I'm going to make an effort to get out of the NPR house every now and then, and spend more time with my music collection. I need to invest my energy in finding something with which to get my jiggy. Who knows? Maybe we should even consider piping some Stevie Ray Vaughan or Al Green into the Town Hall Meetings, or pre-load some iPods to give those angry people. It's hard to stay mad when you're getting your groove on. That's why God invented mix-tapes.
Who among us--angry or otherwise--couldn't use more cowbell?
Not that I don't still love me some Nina Totenberg. But if she could also occasionally give me a few bars of Total Eclipse of the Heart--that would be even better.
Moderation, that is. Never heard of it.
I'm drinking the national debt in Diet Cokes every week, and like my brother's chicken-nugget-hiding dog, I've got M&Ms stashed in every room. I've brushed all the enamel off my teeth, the number and length of my naps alarms my mother, and during my last move I packed 22 boxes of books. Done to excess, even stuff that's supposed to be good for you (like dental hygiene, sleeping, and reading), isn't.
But who would have imagined that NPR could be enjoyed to one's detriment? That's right, Susan Stamberg. Too much NPR is not necessarily a good thing.
I listen to NPR every day. On weekends, I listen all day long. I'm one of those NPR junkies they talk about during pledge drives. And like all good addicts, I abuse my substance of choice to the exclusion of all other things.
I didn't really realize this until my last trip to see my extraordinarily beautiful dentist. His office is located in a town about 40 miles from where I live now (I just can't break up with him and move on), in a small town that is nestled in a lovely river valley. It's very picturesque, but the mountains on all sides make NPR reception spotty at best. Turn left, and you get the 24-hour-Jesus channel; turn right, and Scott Simon comes back.
It's maddening. So last week, I just gave up and turned the radio to a music channel.
And here's the thing about music--whether you prefer blues, jazz, country and western, or all-80s-all-the-time: nothing lifts the pall of everyday drudgery better than 2 minutes, 42 seconds of song. Even if--like me--you weren't particularly aware of needing a lift.
It's so cliche that I forgot.
So I'm going to make an effort to get out of the NPR house every now and then, and spend more time with my music collection. I need to invest my energy in finding something with which to get my jiggy. Who knows? Maybe we should even consider piping some Stevie Ray Vaughan or Al Green into the Town Hall Meetings, or pre-load some iPods to give those angry people. It's hard to stay mad when you're getting your groove on. That's why God invented mix-tapes.
Who among us--angry or otherwise--couldn't use more cowbell?
Not that I don't still love me some Nina Totenberg. But if she could also occasionally give me a few bars of Total Eclipse of the Heart--that would be even better.
3 comments:
1. Love the new look around here. Must be "redecorate your blog" season-- I just did it myself.
2. Town Hall dance parties would be much more fun. Though then someone might pull a muscle and like, need some health care.
We'll make good neighbors, I have NPR on pretty much all day in my office.
Love the picture. Such a moment.
What a lovely idea, mix tapes for all the angry people. I'm making a list!
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