My girls have gone bonkers over Adele. They spend the afternoons belting out her songs at the top of their voices with varying degrees of success. Even the 4yo manages the angst and the volume (!) though the words are a liquidized smoosh of bad-a-baaaaaa, wop wop…
This is all good, I enjoy her music. There is just one itsy-bitsy teeny leetle problem. My brain is notoriously sticky. And boy do these songs stick!
You see, my most fruitful plotting gap, when it comes to my current writing projects, is flat on my back in bed with the lights out. You know that time of day when most sensible people are sleeping? That. Except now, instead of a brain full of my characters and their plights, I have Adele. Singing loud. Full of angst. She. Never. Shuts. Up.
She is one seriously tough woman to push into a corner and ignore. Maybe I need to write her into my book. NOT! *shudders*
So there you have it. My brain is full of rainy pavements and some-poor-soul-like you. Kinda makes me want to hunt down Will Smith and demand he use his MIB flasher thingy on me.
Do you have a recurring mental torture song? (Moms – other than Barney. We all have Barney issues.)