Yesterday my husband came home while I was working and saw me in normal, writing at home without an audience mode, also known as feral state.
I usually spend a good chunk of the day standing — besides all of the dire WE ARE TOO SENDENTARY OMG DEATH articles, I actually concentrate better when I’m upright. Sitting makes me sleepy. So when I stand, I’m at the kitchen counter, usually with headphones on, and I can’t stand still to save my life, so this means bopping along to music. Yes, when he walked in, I was dancing at my laptop.
I was also taking a research break to figure out the approximate height of an adult Newfoundland in relation to my main character, so my entire screen was full of extremely fluffy, giant, black dog pictures. First words out my mouth, “I’m writing, I swear! This is research!”
He cracked up.
Here’s the song I’m hooked on this week, in case you’d like to similarly embarrass yourself 🙂
Am I a freak for dancing around?
Am I a freak for getting down?
I’m coming up, don’t cut me down.
Yeah I wanna be, wanna be Queen.
Is it peculiar that she twerk in the mirror?
And am I weird to dance alone late at night?
And is it true we’re all insane?
And I just tell ’em, “No we ain’t” and get down
The booty don’t lie.