Yesterday my housemate cooked dinner and I serenaded him in the kitchen. He enjoys cooking, and reassured me that he would like it just as much if I were playing and singing as if I were helping him chop vegetables, etc. For my part, I had gotten home from work with a hankering to play the guitar and sing a few old favorites. Yes, I did in fact have a music stand in the kitchen to hold the lyric sheets, and no, our kitchen is not so cavernously large as this hastily sketched drawing would have you believe. My mom used to refer to me as a wandering troubadour when I would walk around the house with my guitar, playing as I popped my head into the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and all over. Unexpectedly being sang to, I believe, is a real treat, and one I like to bring to others when the occasion feels right. And sometimes I need to do something in the kitchen, say, but I'm just not ready to put down my guitar quite yet, so I'll be standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to grab the milk and sandwich materials without banging the guitar into anything. Assuming I succeed, I'll be all ready for a snack and a song (in between bites, of course)!
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