Mildred Dieselboy

Sometimes you're just wrong. In this particular case, I've admitted it several times. "I'm sorry, sweetie, you were right. That subwoofer was worth every penny." And I'm sincere. And he knows it. So tonight, after a shared entree at Ibiza and a bottle-an-a-half of good red wine, we used our technology to host our own private techno club in our living room, as we are wont to do now and then. I scored the Central Listening Station and floated off on the buzz and thump, thinking about my grandma. Which is kind of silly, because I sure can't imagine her listening to Dieselboy, but of course, she's on my mind a lot lately. Hang in there, grandma. >boom boom< There is still a lot I need to know. I want to hear your version of pushing the Singer out of a not-ground-floor window. [thump] Why did you never learn to drive? [thumpthumpthump] Tell me about grandpa when he was young. >boom< >boomboom< Is there a story behind that white chenille bedspread that, for me, defines your bedroom? Because maybe it's just some random thing you got on sale one time. [bzzbzz wheeao wheeaaaaao] But mostly Thank you, and I love you, and Don't go yet, okay? I'm not ready.