The perils of living with someone who is musically talented.

On the way home from work today, I heard one of those great old songs from my youth: one of those great old songs that I really don’t remember, other than in bits and pieces. So when I came in the house singing it came out something like;

“Ya da da da da da da, ‘live for today’, ya da da da da da da, ‘live for today, don’t worry about tomorrow anyway.”

Richard was looking at me funny. I made some comment to the effect of “Obviously, I heard that song on the way home from work.”

His face went from blank to incredulous.

“You don’t know what song I was singing, do you?” I said, with obvious hurt in my tone.

“I had no idea if you were singing, or in horrible pain”, was his reply.

I hate people with talent.