The Providential Cupboard of Good Cheer

What's nice, too, is that, although my bad stepfather was correct all the many times he reproached me with 'having no respect for things,' that characteristic can sometimes work out to one's advantage, even precisely in the realm of things. To wit, I don't have that many CDs anymore. And, I don't have an Apple anything. Therefore, losing the odd assortment of music in the Mazda put a significant dent in my supply. Since I continue to have 'no respect for things,' I don't know where what CDs I do have are; certainly they are not for the most part in their cases, which are, for their part, not in a place where CD cases, empty or filled, would naturally reside.

This being the case, I opened the Skirts-I-Don't-Wear kitchen cupboard (which I don't frequently open, since I don't wear those skirts) and found a stack of CDs. I grabbed the three on top, and was unabashedly gleeful that they were mix CDs, so each is worth about a handful of regular CDs in terms of variety and not getting increasingly resentful towards Beny Moré for being the only guy singing in your car ever. Nothing against mambo or guaguancó but, seriously, we all have our limits.

So now, instead of an all-Latin-all-the-time playlist, I have everything from Piaf to Diabaté to Loretta Lynn and Lemmy. I've got Crass next to Cash followed by the lovely Miss Kitty Wells and a more consistent disc titled 'Bamako to Beirut' that's only African and Middle Eastern. I remember making these CDs and enjoying them okay, but I had no idea how grateful I would be years later that they should surface again!