Takin’ it to the streets…and Keep on loving you

I’ve been fortunate enough to move into a new office at my job and that’s really cool.  It’s a bit echo-y in there since I opted to go without carpet (easier to breathe for this wheezy girl), so I’ve been turning a radio on in the morning just to provide a little background noise.  All I can pick up is 96.5 FM which is fine since it’s turned down fairly low; as long as it’s not country music, I can cope.

I’ve had two musical moments in the past week I had to share.

I was researching something, completely in the zone, when all of the sudden I found I was singing along to the chorus of Takin’ It to the Streets.  Damn those Doobie Brothers; that Michael McDonald vocal is infectious!  I didn’t even realize what was on the radio, but apparently your subconscious can’t have Takin’ It to the Streets playing anywhere nearby without forcing you to sing along.  Tried to get back to work, but no, I had to wait for the chorus so I could sing along…I ain’t blind and I don’t like what I think I see…Takin’ it to the streets.  Your assignment is to have someone play this song near you and I dare you, I double dog dare you, not to sing along with the chorus.  It’s IMPOSSIBLE!  Some sort of Doobie Brothers mind control.

And today it was all background noise, blah blah blah, and then I heard the opening notes of a song that suddenly took me back to somewhere in elementary school.  Maybe fourth grade or thereabouts, sitting on the bench waiting for my turn at bat at recess, having a lyrics battle with my on-again, off-again beau…we must’ve been off-again for this song to be relevant.  I remember throwing out at him  you should’ve seen by the look in my eyes, baby, there was something missin’… and he retorted with you should’ve known by the tone of my voice maybe, but you didn’t listen.  Yeah, we were battling with Reo Speedwagon’s Keep on Loving You.  Funny how you don’t think of something for years and years and a song can bring it back.  I remember “battling” with him another time using Berlin’s The Metro (you know Berlin, so horribly famous for that song Take My Breath Away that I dislike so much, but The Metro was terrific) I remember hating you for loving me…but I’d entirely forgotten these wicked lyrical exchanges until today.  Somewhere in high school, I remember him singing Naughty Girls Need Love Too, but that’s an entirely different conversation…

Shame on me!

Not 24 hours later, I ended up arguing with Mr. Kat 2.0 again and I blame myself 100%.  First, I shouldn’t have answered the phone at all when I saw the number on caller ID; I was at work, I was tired and frankly, I was still irritated at him from yesterday, so I shouldn’t have taken the call.  Second, I can’t believe I fell right into yet another dispute when I know better than to even engage in it in the first place.

Here’s a sample of the irrational conversation from today:

Me: It’s your dog.

Him: He was our dog.

Me: No, you had him before we were even dating, before you even knew me,  thus he’s your dog.  Take responsibility for him.  (I’m calm at this point, completely factual.  Logic is my friend!)

Him: Well, you kept the storage building.

Me: What? What the f-ing hell are you even talking about? (I’m a little irritated at the new topic, but I’m not mad.  I cuss all day long, this use of ‘f-ing hell’ was merely emphasizing that I have no idea what he’s talking about)

Him: You kept the storage building, and that should be mine.

Me:  What does that have to do with the dog? (I’m trying to find the logic here, even though I know there really is none to be found!)

Him:  I think I paid more for the storage building than you did.

Me: (this is the part where I should’ve stopped the conversation because see how he changed the subject from the dog to something else completely random out of thin air? where did this topic even come from? random topics in mid-discussion to distract me are so annoying, but I know this trick of his and should’ve just hung up)  No, you didn’t, I have the check to prove what I paid but I don’t care about the money.  If you want it, please take it, move the damn building already! (see, at this point, I’m officially pissed, because his whining about the storage building has gone on for 18 months, and every time, I’ve said come get it if you will shut up because I’d much much much rather have peace than any storage building…but there’s no sport in taking the building, is there? It’s only fun for him if he gets to randomly argue with me about it)

Him: Why are you always so mad at me?

Me: ARG! (the conversation that followed was infused with a ridiculous number of angry obscenities flying from my mouth before I hung up in disgust, so we’ll just sum it up with ARG!)

So.  Shame on me for getting mired in the most idiotic of disputes, shame on me for falling for the random change of topic to turn nothing at all into an argument, shame on me.  I will do better next time; I will let voicemail pick up…and if I must talk to him, then I will try to keep the conversation focused and calm, not letting him digress into other conversational hot buttons just to stir up a fight out of thin air.  Above all, I will be grateful that he’s the only person that I argue so nastily with on the whole planet and I will be grateful that we don’t live together anymore, ever again, hallelujah for that.