I lock the door and put the headphones on. I walk outside and feel the sun on my face. Jet start playing in my ears and it's hard to keep myself from hopping along to the music. Towards the end of the song I lose the battle and my hands move to the beat on their own. As I reach the supermarket, the Kaiser Chiefs share my sentiments about the lack of empty carts, predicting a riot.
I soldier on to the 60's vibe of California Sun. Pick some nice avocados, raid the organic veg section, nice lettuce into the cart. Oh, don't forget we're out of bread! Double take and grab a pack of laflaf European pitot. God-dess and She talking dirty while I try to choose some red peppers, teaching me things I already know.
Kesän Lapsi remix whizzes me through the dairy section, and I forget to feel foolish about not knowing which cheese to pick. I Love To Boogie past the coffee, the sweets, the Mexican shelves and the Japanese ones. Joan Armatrading sings about a gender-bender messing with the boys, and I try to decide about dinner. Chicken fajitas is the conclusion, and I have to go back for the salsa.
My cart is full, and Shiri Maimon and her glorious tits sweep me off to the cash register. I still maintain that girl was robbed, and should have won the Eurovision. I press pause for a few minutes, the noise of the other customers and a Travis cover rush to my ears. But I'm focused - interacting with these English language refuseniks calls for nothing less than my full attention. Pay, pack and head out.
Walking uphill towards home doesn't bother me today because A Town Called Malice just started and I can almost see Billy Elliot dancing along the pavement with me. Ultra Bra's Tel Aviv takes me home in more ways than one, as I reach the house. Smiling happily to myself I walk up the stairs and start writing this post in my head.
Fucking MP3 player. Best thing that ever happened to me.
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