If I Were Only Eighteen Again!

I’m in adulation with the guy who is painting my house. Well, not in a ‘Love’ adulation way, but in a array of “if I were alone 18 again” way. If I saw my painter acclimation two belief top on a ladder with a acrylic can captivated by one finger, I was assertive painting houses was just his hobby. There was no agnosticism in my apperception that on his ‘real work’ canicule he was in the ring giving a bang douse to his WWF opponent.

Three men could abide his able-bodied physique and there would still be added room. His biceps are bigger than my husband’s waist and the aphotic hair on his arch is even bigger. And the a lot of adorable asset of all, he is young. What added could a woman wish I acted while loading the dishwasher for the millionth time, my estrogen bolus melting on my argot after baptize because the dishwasher corrupt was still absorbed to the bore faucet. And never apperception the chestnut that was aimlessly decrepit down the ancillary of my close from beneath my battery cap and assimilate my robe. The Rock, or whatever his name, was painting my house.

What acquired me to activate to lose my coiled red head, you ask? Well, it all started if my bedmate sourly appropriate he was acceptable debilitated by alert to my classical music all day continued and anon put on a brace of bedrock CD’s by his admired artist, my son. Emerson does actualize abundant music, but the abatement sounds of violins and cellos somehow advice backpack me through banal tasks of the day.

I’ve consistently categorized my activity in music phases: The Four Aces, Bill Haley and Elvis represent my boyish memories; Johnny Mathis, Montavonni, and Peter, Paul and Mary my baby-raising years: Kiss, Springsteen, Buffalo Springfield and annihilation abroad my three teenagers played at mega-decibel levels represent my ‘whatever’ years.

And now, this acutely abortive advice I’ve just aggregate with you about music tastes, segues us aback to The Bedrock who is painting my house. I absolutely didn’t abatement in “love, not absolutely “LOVE” with The Rock. I fell in adulation with the dichotomy amid his concrete age and actualization and his aftertaste in music.Biyang EQ-7

All day long, The Bedrock listens to his carriageable radio he never has added than 5 anxiety abroad from his ladder. And the music that filters through my windows brings me aback to my boyish life. To my amazement, music of the 50’s is the music that makes Rock’s affection beat. It is his aftertaste in music that I love.

And it is his music that makes me feel animate afresh by sparking afresh the action of award boyish adulation in a time already lived.

When his plan is done and The Bedrock and his radio drive down the road, I’ll absence the adventure his music has provided. So in the end, I assumption it’s not all about adolescence and anatomy or The Rock’s abounding hair. And it’s not about painting either. It’s about adequate memories and the adeptness to dream in your down-covered slippers.

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