Compounding matters, and by matters I mean it being the last day of my job and me sitting in my very warm apartment surrounded by teenage literature I picked up at used bookstores and curriculum I wrote and funny little gifts from students, is the fact that I've had a fictional R&B ballad stuck in my head for the past week.
By fictional, I mean that it has no words and is not a real song. It's just a mystery tune; a loop running over and over again in my head like the beginning of a DVD. It sounds pretty much like, "Dum dum duh DAH da dum, Dadada, Dadadah, Duahhawah (repeat)." Slow and steady with a shuffle beat, it rolls around my brain at the most inopportune times, making everything incredibly cheesy.
It's rather like the time I got the NBC morning news theme lodged in my head for a week. When that happened, everything took on this superfluous importance and I had a constant urge to straighten my collar and speak directly.
I hope you walked in slow motion as you went out the door that last time.
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