Work was good last night: steady but not out of control. And what a gorgeous morning to follow! It's about 60 degrees here with a blue sky. Clear and a little cold. Driving home, I decided to punch the play button on my car's stereo and see what cd had been left in there and forgotten about. Immediately Sarah Brightman blasted from the speakers.
"He's there, the phantom of the opera!"
Who can resist the over the top electronified organ and bass of Andrew Lloyd Webber? I get tingles every time I hear that song. Maybe it was the wonderfulness of the morning, or just slap-happiness from getting off work; I couldn't help but try to sing along with the windows down. It was a pathetic attempt, but Sarah did a good job of drowning me out. I can't even squeak as high as she can belt out that song. Who knew there was such thing as a "whistle register?" And that Emmy Rossum girl just doesn't compare.