Little Smudgeon

I'm lying on my bed, watching my nephew play games on my computer. He kinda waltzes into my room, switches it on like he owns the place and starts busting out a Drake album like I'm in the mood to be hearing all that.

Now I do happen to listen to Drake, the album having been on my computer, but not often. When it comes to rap, or whatever it is that they call this new sound, I do it on the odd occasion, on the sly, under thick blankets late at night and after a few heavy drinks. It is my guilty pleasure. A little bit here and there, like a bit of chocolate. After a while it starts to burn holes in my ears and I find myself clawing for the safety that indie music brings. I told him that if he wants to sit in my room -something I don't let anyone do, especially when I'm home- he has to listen to good music. I started playing Four, I love Four. So does he apparently. He seems to know the words to So He Begins To Lie, a song we listened a lot to last week actually. When the power went out last week he followed me all around the house. All I wanted to do was lay down in my cave and listen to So He Begins To Lie. He was right there.

It's funny how being around people all the time can annoy me. I can turn into the world's greatest extrovert and the most introverted person, all at the flick of a fancy. I'm usually a general degree of vocal around people, but I do love being in my own head. I don't like it inside my head right now, but it's home and it just needs to be cleared up. There is so much clutter in there that I've had to hire someone to clean it up. They aren't doing so badly, but sometimes when a new cleaning services comes in, it takes them a little while to learn the ropes.

The little smudge is leaving my room now, Day Four blesses me.