I’m sitting at work (as always), and a bit of The Red House Painters came ’round on the old iTunes. It’s slow, languid, hypnotic, and full of nostalgia and melancholy, as if this music was from a specific point in my life with deep and important meaning.
Which it is, but that’s another story.
It’s beautiful and haunting and I want to be at home, sitting in my living room, listening to this music on my stereo where it will fill the room, unencumbered by copy machines, phones, and office-mates and meetings.
But I’m here. I’m at work and there’s little to be done about it apart from listening to the music on the computer and daydreaming about being home.
I really need a day off.