Off key

I performed a concert of sweeping proportions tonight in our music room (actually a dining room empty of anything but a keyboard, guitar, and trombone). The three lords of the manor attended. I started learning to play guitar a couple weeks ago to try to prevent my brain from rotting. The males have been patient with me up to this point. Greg perched in the corner with his laptop while I played. Winston and Abe lounged near the keyboard.
I played the first few songs without singing. My guitar playing is tolerable at this point. While I still take a little time to change chords, my execution of the notes has improved a lot since I began. But then I pulled out the “Big Book of Rock.” Most people who know the 1980s tune “Wild, Wild West” probably prefer to forget it. I like horrible ’80s music though, so I began playing AND singing “Wild, Wild West.” My singing, usually a little off key, staggered from screeching to chirping. Singing really takes focus, and I was directing all my energy to the guitar playing. Abe reached his pain threshold. He walked over to Greg, gazed into his eyes, and gave a pleading whimper that could only mean “Please make her stop.” You know you’re pretty bad when your dog can’t stand to be around you. Winston, bless his little kitty heart, slept through the whole thing as though I were playing a Brahms lullaby. We must get his hearing checked.