I think Kate Nash is haunting me. Just this morning, I decided to finally listen to her album, the same one that I had downloaded at Katherine's suggestion months ago. I listened to it and loved it. Put it on repeat and got through it three times in 3D form class. Just as I removed my headphones to talk to Matt about the painstaking measurements on my 4.5 ft tall "urbanized" model of a tube of Crest toothpaste, I heard her on the radio. I laughed. Sang along a little. Marveled at life's little miracles.
But now, as I sit here, pretending to edit the pages of tomorrow's State News, listening to her again on my coworkers iPod, who "just downloaded her!"; I can't help but wonder. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Or maybe. Maybe, and more plausibly, Kate Nash is having an out-of-body experience today and feels like sharing it with me.
If Kate Nash shows up at my bedside tonight, I'm going to scream. Especially since my bed is about 6 feet off the ground.
But now, as I sit here, pretending to edit the pages of tomorrow's State News, listening to her again on my coworkers iPod, who "just downloaded her!"; I can't help but wonder. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Or maybe. Maybe, and more plausibly, Kate Nash is having an out-of-body experience today and feels like sharing it with me.
If Kate Nash shows up at my bedside tonight, I'm going to scream. Especially since my bed is about 6 feet off the ground.
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