Those Upon Whom I Look

Music Meme, Day 24

A song that gets stuck in your head: 

This one is ever-changing for me, as I imagine it is for other people. A song that you wake up with in your head one day, one that lilts or churns or waltzes through your head throughout that day may give way the next morning to something completely different, but equally mesmerizing. As someone who wakes up and goes to sleep with music, I think that's a wonderful thing. 

There are dangers. If you're unlucky enough to get some song or other piece of music that you can't stand it could drive you spare. Bob told me once that he had that happen to him when he was much younger. He wasn't able to get it out of his head for days. I was about to say that I wouldn't wish that on an enemy, but actually, that would be an exquisitely nasty thing for a nasty enough enemy. 

But in general, if you're like me, the songs that get stuck in your head are pieces where the music, or the words, or some combination of both are positive things. 

So here are two songs that almost always remain in my mind long after their notes have faded. 

I love music and words that combine to become aurally hypnotic. REM's "Maps and Legends" does that for me. "Maybe these maps and legends have been misunderstood." The descant that Mike Mills sings behind Michael Stipe's strange and only partially understandable (in both senses of the word) lyrics are what I wish I could have sung as a backup singer. They are borderline ecstatic, a word I've used more than once this week. 


Here's a link to my last entry, which will, if you're patient enough, lead you to all my previous entries. 

Mice. More Mice, Damnit.

The headline says it all. 

I got up at 5:15 a.m. in order to watch the first BTS concert since all seven of the members got out of the military.  Their last concert was four years ago, and they played this free event at Gwanghwamun Square in central Seoul, which is seen as the city's spiritual heart and most prominent gathering space. Thousands of fans watched in person, and millions more watched via Netflix, which is what I did. 

The concert was short, just an hour long; they performed every song on their new album "Arirang" and about four of their earlier most popular songs. They really are a mesmerizing group to watch in full flight, although I was forced to wonder about bad omens; their leader, Kim Nam Joon (stage name RM) badly hurt an ankle during rehearsals, and had to spend much of the concert performing on a stool. 

ARMY didn't mind, and perhaps the joy I saw reflected in the faces of fans watching did, as the young men told those fans, power everything that was happening on stage. With that kind of support, perhaps an injured ankle will be of little import. 

I enjoyed the concert and was about to get up and get my second cup of coffee when I discovered that, having successfully mouse-proofed the south larder closet in our office, the  little monsters fellas had decided that they could come in from the north side larder, closest to our furnace room (which isn't really a room, it's a tiny closet where the furnace is placed, but we call it a room, so there you go).

How do I know? Carter, who's been acting very "I know there are mousies there" for the past day or so, abruptly tried to push his head under the base of one of the northern larders shelving units. As I prepared to look under the shelving unit myself, a tiny grey blur shot out between Carter and me, and disappeared somewhere in the wilds of the office, or perhaps out the office door and into the rest of the house.

At this point, after the initial confrontation, during which I shrieked almost loud and high enough to crack glass, all I could do was shake my head and laugh. Just a tiny laugh, mind you, but what else could I do? Beyond the inevitable cleaning job, I mean.

It's frustrating. Nearly every foodstuff we have in both the north and south larders has been stored in hard plastic bins now, but they will apparently try to feast on anything I hadn't yet gotten into said bins. They also tried to feed on the plastic surrounding some artwork that's in the north larder because there's no room for them elsewhere.

They haven't made too much of a mess, so I can only assume they just discovered the new route over the past couple of days. Cue tremendous sighs, and a wish that I could wave a wand and keep them out for good. I keep a clean place, people, and yet here they are. 

By the end of today, Bob and I had visited one of our favorite hardware stores to get mouse shield foam and yet more steel wool. We've been there so often, at least a few of cashiers can kibbutz with us as they ring us up.

While I was out getting some more plastic storage containers at yet another of our favorite hardware stores, Bob deployed the foam and steel wool all around the furnace, after I'd vacuumed out far too much dust in the cubby. I really do keep a clean house; the problem is that I forget about the furnace cubby. So at least I can thank the mice for reminding me that I need to regularly vacuum around the furnace. 

Positivity, that's the name of the game.

But I'm still looking around for that little grey blur; I just know he or she is lurking somewhere, preparing to scare the living bejesus out of me again.