I Forgot

I left home without my mp3 player today.

And I'm gone overnight.

I have certain things that I forget sometimes: what I'm doing on Friday, what the French word for crême fraiche is, when the train for the airport is scheduled to leave.

I have other things that I forget more or less all the time: what I'm doing every day except Friday, the name of the person I met 18 seconds ago, when your birthday is, and how to drive to... well, anywhere.

But there are some things that I never forget. Where my wallet is. If I have my keys. And to bring my music.

So I am looking at two plane rides (to Lugano and home), two days in a noisy office, and a night without music. And, as I think about it, this may be the first time that I can remember that I have been this long without my tunes. Consequently, I have been singing to myself (in my head when I need to; out loud when circumstances permit) even more than usual. I brought my camera, but find myself noticeably less inspired without Steven Tyler encouraging me along. I may well end up seeking out a karaoke bar and singing in Italian before the night is over just to get my fix.

I had some good news/bad news last night. A friend commented that my deer-in-the-headlights look is maybe something I wear a little more often than I had realized. That's the bad news. It comes across as endearing, it seems, which I am taking as an encouragement. In any case, if you run into me this weekend and I look even more lost than usual, it's just the residual effects of an unplanned cold-turkey music withdrawal.

Either that or I really am lost, in which case I would be very grateful if you would point me towards home and give me a little push.