Music to Work By

What do pulling weeds and painting a house have in common? Music from 1967 of course. Doesn’t that make perfect sense?

As I attacked the weeds and vines that were choking everything in my back yard this morning, my husband put on the CD I brought home from the reunion filled with the music of our graduation year. He blasted it out of the speakers on the deck, hoping to give me a rhythm to work by.

Those songs suddenly transported me back to 1967, the year I took on painting the interior of our house at $20 a room, hoping to make some quick money. I learned a lot that summer and ruined quite a few pieces of clothing with oil-based paint. The biggest thing I learned about painting is that it is not quick – not if you do it right, that is. My parents insisted that I clean the surfaces thoroughly, and then patch and prime before ever starting the fun part. Oh, and then I had to do all the edges with a brush before using the roller. It was definite a learning experience that convinced me to steer clear of a career in house painting.

The only way I got through this hot, sticky (no A/C in Florida – can you believe that?) job was to blast the radio the entire time. So I learned all the words to those songs that now sit on my new CD.

Quite a few of you reading this were not around in 1967, so you missed out on some good music. Here are some of the highlights:

My Girl – Temptations
House of the Rising Sun – Animals
When a Man Loves a Woman – Percy Sledge
I’ve Lost That Loving Feeling – Righteous Brothers
Good Lovin’ – Rascals

The yard looks incredibly better and I am already stiff and sore from using muscles I don’t normally call on. I’m just as hot and sweaty as I was in 1967, but I have the definite advantage of being to retreat to an air-conditioned house.

The question remains as to whether my yard workout will result in a fresh case of poison ivy. It grows in lots of places in our back yard and I’m positive I can get it just from being in close proximity. I’m ready to jump in the shower and hopefully rinse off the spores or oils or whatever it is that causes the awful itch. But meanwhile I’m still humming “Gimme that good, good lovin...”