Nicole and I are very well-suited to each other, or I don’t think we’d have lasted as long as we have. That harmony has been armor for us in this mess, but I’ve voluntarily made one sacrifice that at times has me chomping at the bit. Yesterday, she went out to school for a few hours to prepare her room, my reins were loosed, and I was spurred.

I happen to deeply enjoy quite a bit of music that some would find akin to sitting next to jackhammer while trying to pray. Nicole’s got terrific and pretty adventurous taste in music, but (particularly considering the stress of ‘rona mixed with schools opening) free jazz cranked up to about seven is not her idea of pleasure. I have good headphones, but I find it rude to don them if another human’s in the room, and I like to hear music in the open air (I admit, I’m fussy). About 0.5 seconds after she headed down the stairs to the garage, I’d slid the gnarliest record of the year, Neptunian Maximalism’s oceanic, Olympian, three-disc whale-mating makeout album ÉONS into the CD player and turned the knob seriously clockwise. Then I settled onto the couch and read meditatively for the duration. The record ended right as I heard the garage door open, but I can now go another five months relatively racket-free.

In other news, I’ve decided to pursue being a notary public, we made a Tropical Liqueurs run (Brain Freeze vs. 2/3rd Piña Colada 1/3 Rum Runner), and thanks to our show-finder Susan we found a great new show to chill out, too: Unforgotten.

Streaming for Strivers:

The racket I’m talking about ain’t rock and roll.