Bill's Musings

I know you will find this hard to believe, but sometimes I make a fool of myself in public. Okay, now that I have that shocking revelation out of my system, allow me to illustrate just what I mean.

Anne and I often shop together. We actually have a lot of fun. Well, most of the time. I’ve come to realize however that it appears that I am having more fun than she is. For her, it’s more like shopping with a child hopped up on sugar. I think the last couple of times she spiked my juice with Ritalin to keep me in line. That’s what happens when you are married to someone who’s a specialist in such things.

As I was saying, we shop. Together. Very key is that word. Say it with me….together! And when we shop, I at times can be annoying. I don’t mean to be. I just am. When we go do groceries for instance, and our friend Jennifer is working the cash, I try to bring my ‘A’ game. I annoy the crap out of Jennifer, just for the fun of it. She’s already mad when we get there. I just push her over the edge. Poor Jennifer. So young, yet so angry at stuff. Tsk Tsk.

This, of course, often embarrasses Anne. Oh, and myself too. But mostly Anne. And if the kids are with us, them too.  But there is one thing that really sets me loose. It’s something that cranks me up just enough, and it is totally out of my control.

Disco.

More specifically, Disco being played over the intercom of any store I am in. As soon as I hear the opening piano riff of ‘I Will Survive’, my pulse quickens, my pupils dilate, my legs begin to shake….and poor old Anne rolls her eyes and thinks, ‘Please….not again!’ She breaks into a sweat (I can see the sweat on her upper lip because she does not have a moustache…unlike myself).  I just can’t help it. I dance. I dance like nobody is watching.

But of course lots of people are.

I’m actually surprised I haven’t shown up on Youtube yet. In fact I’m pretty sure that if I was 18 instead of 34 (ahem), I would probably be on one of these ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ type shows. Most likely as an audience member or stalker, but I’d be there!! So, when the music starts, my hips start to swing. I moon walk. I do the robot, whatever it takes. I grab the bread and put in the basket with panache. I cha-cha to get the eggs. I allemande down the aisle. I belly dance for bacon. I do the hustle for the hamburger. I’ve even done the polka for the produce.

The term ‘dancing fool’ comes to mind, I’m sure, but for me, it’s a feeling of liberation. If I know it’s going to be really bad, I get Anne to stay home while I shop alone. It’s probably better that way.

So, if you see me shopping, and it looks like I’ve got ants in my pants, it’s all the more likely that my favourite tune is playing. I also use the code wheel at the cash as a rapping/dj record player, much to Jennifer’s dismay. And if you want to dance, please do. Life is too short as it is!