It’s 7:17 a.m., and I’m still in bed. Alexa is playing an Eagles’ playlist just for me, and I’m singing along. The cat has taken refuge in the hallway, watching me with a wary eye, while my bed has become my own private time machine.
I remember singing along to “Take it Easy” from the backseat of our family’s car when I was 16 or so, and begging my parents to not change the station to a country channel. And when “Witchy Woman” played, everyone had to be quiet so I could try to understand the lyrics. What was that woman up to? No good, that’s what.
A favorite Eagles’ song? I can’t name just one. That would be like saying I have a favorite child or grandchild, or even a favorite husband. But, I do know the songs I enjoy singing along with the most.
“I Can’t Tell You Why”—my voice blends beautifully into this one. At least in my mind. Reality is a different matter.
“Witchy Woman”—howling along.
And “Peaceful Easy Feeling”—nobody sings this as well as I do. That’s a blatant lie, but a relatively harmless one as lies go.
What a great way to start my day, right? Now, back to writing and editing and cursing a lot. Here’s hoping your Wednesday is good, though.