If you like Piña Coladas

I have spent less time in the front room of our house this semester, partly because I like my room a whole lot more since I re-arranged, but also because nobody else has been out there to be my distraction from homework and a long day. I came home from campus around 5:15 to find Laura in the front room, reading her Forest Ecology and Policy book and ready to brew some tea. As usual, there was a lot of activity happening around the house of our across-the-street neighbors. Couches in the front yard, a motorcycle parked on the lawn, what looks like a twenty-something smoking cigarettes while another twenty-something does what looks like an interview with the Korea War veteran who lives in the house and spends most of his time wheeling around the neighborhood. Laura and I play this fun game where we try to guess what they're up to, because with nothing but what we see for "facts," there are all kinds of odd, well, seemingly unexplainable behaviors happening.

We make our tea, we heat up some mashed potatoes from last night's dinner, we commence the reading, but continue watching with one eye for something worth noting across the street. Interviewer lady leaves, smoker boy lights up cigarette number 5 in 43 minutes, and we hear "I was tired of my lady. We'd been together too long. Like a worn-out recording of a favorite song."

I giggle a little bit, Laura and I make eye contact, and we both start to groove a little bit on our respective couches. "So while she lay there sleeping I read the paper in bed, and in the personal columns there was this letter I read."

Laura says, "wait for it..." and like we'd planned it, she takes lead while I sing top harmony.

"IF YOU LIKE PIÑA COLADAS
GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN
IF YOU'RE NOT INTO YOGA
IF YOU HAVE HALF A BRAIN
IF YOU LIKE MAKIN LOVE AT MIDNIGHT
IN THE DUNES ON THE CAPE
THEN I'M THE LOVE THAT YOU'VE LOOKED FOR
WRITE TO ME AND ESCAPE."

We laugh and laugh, enjoying the rest of the song and the very abrupt volume changes as their screen door swings open and slams shut in the wind. We each say something very clever, laugh at our own wittiness, and return to reading.

The next few songs are not successfully played--skip, skip, DJ play that song again, skip, scratch, tick, tick, tick... and then,

"Bum, bum, bum bum. Bum, bum, bum bum. I was tired of my lady. We'd been together too long. Like a worn-out recording of a favorite song." If once wasn't enough, twice definitely got us a-laughing. Laura says, "Get it? It's funny. Like a worn-out recording..."

We listened one more time through, and then the music stopped. Guess it's the only song that still plays on that CD. Enjoy...