Picture it. Saturday morning, early 1980's and I'm sitting watching cartoons. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, this song gets stuck for all eternity to make a come back, this morning, in my little pea-sized brain as I'm getting ready for work. And yet dollars to donuts, I can't remember your phone number. Any of you. Nor your birthdays and anniversaries. Don't get angry, just have pity. Because I am far from perfection.
1 comment:
OMG. I loved perfection. I bet my parents still have mine somewhere in their house! (as I told you - the packrat in me is hereditary :)
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