What would you think if one morning you woke up with these lines running through your head?
And one was safe and asleep in his bed,
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who later that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.
Ominous, right? It's a stanza from "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere," and for some reason it was stuck in my head when I woke up on Friday. That was also the day I had to go back to New Orleans to get my car, and I was convinced it was a sign that this trip would be even worse than the last one. Fortunately, that was not the case. I caught a ride there with my Jewish grandparents, and they treated me to lunch with their daughter and granddaughter. They are so nice to me, it doesn't make sense. Muse Watson and I both got home in one piece, although the drive back was exhausting and I all but collapsed in bed when it was over. (My own fault for staying up too late the night before reading Liz Taylor obituaries!) Anyway, it is so wonderful to have a car again!
One of our neighbors bought a bed for Graycat, the cat who lives in the stairwell. It's on the landing, and Sable has taken to lying in it whenever he comes in from a walk. I practically have to pry him out of it. It's not as if the spoiled old dog doesn't have two beds of his own!
And for no reason, two videos that Sara and I have been watching. This one is "The Purim Song," by The Maccabeats, an amazing acapella Jewish band. (Last winter, they did an equally awesome song about Hanukkah called "Candlelight.") The lyrics explain the origins of the holiday, if you're not familiar with it. It's a tweaked version of "Raise Your Glass," by Pink, which is also a great song, although the video for it is damn disturbing.
(And check out Harry Potter at 2:23!)
This is "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," from the old musical Cabaret. The song is actually quite lovely and damn catchy, although I can't quite get past the fact that it's sung by a Hitler Youth member and that when the crowd joins in, they're practically foaming at the mouth! Scary.
P.S. Right now I'm in another window trying to compose a letter to ask a woman I've met only two times if she'd do my mikvah for me. That's not weird, is it? What's that? Oh, it is weird? Never mind.