Anyway, at the supermarket—and does anyone even call it the supermarket anymore? Anyway, you know you’re inching closer to middle age when find yourself humming along to the tunes being piped in through the speakers; when it’s music that’s part of your own collection. Happens to me all the time. Scares the fuckin’ shit out me. Here I am trying to choose between Frosted Flakes and Honey Nut Cheerios and coming from above, between “Clean up in aisle six,” or, “Nancy to cosmetic,” there’s Bob Seger’s Night Moves.

Here comes my spot-on Seger imitation…

[Sings] “And we’d steal away every chance we could / To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods—”

It’s not right! It’s not what I want to be thinking about when considering my breakfast options. I don’t need a woody at the Piggly-Wiggly. Does me no good.

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