This morning I was on “American Idol”, for some inexplicable reason. Well, not really on the show, but going for my audition. Throughout the entire trip from the waiting room, to the that little room they lock you in before you get the call, I was first extremely perplexed about why I was auditioning because there is no way anyone who is actively conscience would mistake me for a singer.
As I was propelled, with a ‘guide’ on either side of me, holding my arms, I became less perplexed and started worrying about what I was going to sing for the Judges. My first thought was something by Fredrick Nelson because he was only 4 years older than me and I liked his songs. “Travelin Man” came to mind, perhaps because I know most of the words.
“No,” I thought, “I need something more mellow.” Then Jim Reeves popped his head up and suggested “He’ll Have To Go”, another song that I know most of the words to. Thinking this would be a better choice, I took Jim’s advice and discarded Ricky. Maybe another day for him.
For some reason the trip to the little booth took a while so I had ample time to practice, getting my routine down pat. Toward the end of the trip I thought I was sounding pretty good, especially on those low notes. With little fanfare, I was tossed into that little room and the door slammed.
I was alone, waiting for the green light. I waited, and waited, and waited, then it finally came on. I reached for the doorknob, turned it very slowly, and pushed the door open, steeling myself to give the performance of my life, to do something I wasn’t prepared to do. Clearing my throat, I stood a little straighter, confidently pushed the door open, and marched into the bathroom.
Then I woke up.
Isn’t it funny how your brain interprets the meaning of a distended bladder, and a groaning bowel?
Once awake, I grabbed Ozzie from the bed, went to the back door and released him into the wild. Panzee and Breezie readily followed. While waiting for them to return, I staggered around the kitchen a bit, fixing the dog’s bowls of pouch food to complete their morning routine. Not being fully alert, I mistakenly put Ozzie’s in the big bowl, and Panzee’s in the small bowl. I’ve done that before, but fixed it before serving. This morning I just left it as is and let them have at it. Then I fixed a cup of day old coffee for myself, stuffed it in the microwave, and went to the bathroom to complete the morning routine.
Turns out I really did have a world-class performance to give after all. Because of that, “He’ll Have To Go” was a good choice.
Since I haven’t been taking my fibre, as directed, it took a while and I had to reheat my coffee when done.
Now I’m comfortably waiting for my next performance. Maybe I should tune up my guitar and play along with it.
That would be a nice touch.