And on it goes...

Hubs is sitting at his laptop patiently scanning defunct cds. This is part of the Great Clearing Out of Crap.

I would probably look at said spindle of cds and go "Gee! Haven't listened to THESE for four years, didn't bother to label them at the time, mustn't be important!" CHUCK.

The love of my life is instead loading each one, listening to it and then deciding where to file it.

Sample commentary:
"The Romantic Sax album!"
Is there such a thing? Oh god, it's tinkly-tinkly music. You know, the tinkly function you get on really crap electronic keyboards.
 "Hey, this isn't the Romantic Sax album!" ...and then the sax cuts in.

"Are you feeling the romance? Are you? Somone must. Where's the sax? (tinkle, tinkle) Where's the sax? SOME people must get romantic to this. Oh. Hey, there it is! Saxaphone Healing...
Oh yeah, play it for me, baby. Listen to this one! You are the saxophone beneath my wings.
(sings) I never told you I'm your hero. I'm going to put this on your computer." (evil glinty eyes)

"NO!" I am a little terrified by this prospect. For all I know of our network, he could be doing it right now. And lest you think I'm making this up, I TRANSCRIBED all this dialogue. Yeah. Take that.

"Oh yeah. Right now."
Fortunately for me, distraction arrives in the form of a particularly, humorously crap cd.
"Should I save this one and give it to someone? Yep. Ok. I'm going to write on it right now. Sax for Max. Good one. (sings) Did I ever say I thought you were gay?"

...and so on.

Five minutes later:
"Do you want to hear Miss Piggy and Ozzie Osbourne sing Born to be wild?"
"Um, okay."

It's everything I dreamed it would be. And husband? Well, I can't decide whether he's ADD, autistic or I'm just so OCD I don't notice his brand. I'm pretty sure this is not entirely normal.

Up next: Kermit playing "Wild Thing" on ukele, gatecrashed by Pink Floyd and Animal on Drums. I kid you not, I couldn't make this up if I tried.