JC in the Hizzy

Sunday morning my dude and I were heading out for brunch. Now I can't help it, but pretty much every Sunday, especially when it's sunny, for some reason, I start to sing Sunday Morning Coming Down in my head. As we were backing the car out, I started saying the words.

Well I woke up Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt.

My dude looked at me, kinda expectantly. Yeah, he knows where I'm going with this!

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, so I had one more... (pause while I watched a car coming toward us)... for dessert.

He kinda laughed. I looked at him and said, Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes and my cleanest dirty shirt.

Woo hoo, sing it with me!!

Again, smiles but no singing. It was devastatingly clear he had no clue what I was saying.

Had I not been dying for an egg and spinach croissant with roasted tomato sauce and bacon from my favorite brunch spot, Annabel's, I'd have totally gotten out of the car without another word, slammed the door and never spoke to him again. But as it was, I was hungry. And I needed coffee.

So I played the I'm-an-understanding-girlfriend, plus-you're-driving-me-to-brunch-so-maybe-we-can-just-let-this-one-over-sight slip-past, even-though-it's-HUGE-that-you-don't-know-this-song... who-are-you-anyway?!

You know, Johnny Cash, I said encouragingly, thinking it'd ring a bell... Sunday Morning Coming Down.

"I don't know Johnny Cash like you do," he said.

Pssht. You can say that again Jack.

Then we started talking about fried chicken, because, well... I was still singing the song.