Yesterday afternoon, the Morgoid and I went out for ice cream. Eschewing the not-even-one-block-away Baskin Robbins, we instead headed out to the Marble Slab. She somehow packed away an entire Strawberry Shortcake, while I had a more modest honey ice cream with blueberries (yum). On our walk, she was humming a song that she just couldn't get out of her head. "Have you heard the new Feist song?" No, I replied; although I'd noticed earlier in the day that Jeans had linked to the video, I didn't have time to give it a click. "Oh my god, you have to hear it!" She pulled out her iPod and cued up the track, then gave me the headphones. "You look like the kind of guy who is okay with people forcing you to listen to their iPod." I am, so I listened.
The song was magnificent. A beautiful pop construction pitch-perfect for the first genuine sunny spring afternoon we've had this year. As we walked, I started to skip, and then prance, and then dance flat-out down the street. Morgoid joined in with me, and the two of us frolicked down Whyte Avenue, arms waving and bodies dipping and bobbing to the beat. Quite a few strangers gave us odd looks;I didn't care, though. For about half a minute, as Feist was bouncing into my ears and we skipped down the street, I felt like I was in a musical.