Anyplace

There's something about the repetitive motions of sweeping and wiping down countertops that makes me want to sing.  It's like I've created my own metronome, and my mouth automatically responds accordingly.  For whatever reason, this is the song that most often pops into my head while I'm at work.  It's one of my all-time favourites, even though it expresses a very un-Kelly sentiment.  I am more an "Anyplace With Four Walls, a Roof, My Dog, and 600 Books Is Home" sort of person.  But Audra sells it.

At the library, which I think of as my other job, I don't get music stuck in my head.  I do, however, converse with the books I'm interacting with.  In fact, I speak almost constantly while I'm there, murmuring book titles, names of authors, dewey decimal locations, and the like.  Today I had a long, under-the-breath argument with a stack of books which refused to stay where I put them.  I'm sure the library patrons love me.

I know the librarian loves me.  I can tell because she calls me Julia, which is far more beautiful than my given name.