It is a dull grey weekday morning. The kids have just gone to school. The sheer effort of getting them ready and out and in school has left me fatigued, at the verge of craving death. I am in the car. I am wondering whether I can face my office straight away, or whether I need a dose of coffee. Rain splatters on the window pane. I haven’t finished my thesis formatting. It’s too difficult. I can’t get the margins straight. There is a host of really crappy e-mails waiting for me in my office. I feel tired. My mom and dad are across the ocean. I want them. I want to go back to my crappy student aprtment and crawl under the bedclothes in a silent childfree space.
I turn on the radio.
“Dude looks like a lady! HEYEY HEYEY! DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY!”
Aerosmith’s abrasive scream fills the car. Almost against my will, I start smirking, nodding my head to the beat.
“HEYey! HEYey! DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY!”
It’s funny. That’s the thing many people don’t get about good rock songs, they’re really funny. Well, except Axl Rose. The exception which proves all the rules. He has absolutely no sense of humour. And his songs are not funny at all.
Thinking about Axl Rose, listening to Aerosmith, smiling at the crazy song and its mad words I reach the office. First thing on my to do list: turn on Windows media player, with the music as loud as I can get away with in a stuffy academic office. Life isn’t that bad, after all.