As Lulu has recounted, we had a lovely evening a couple of days ago sitting around, saying nothing and listening to records on my new turntable. While there is a turntable in our house (which technically is mine),but after fourteen years of marriage has become community property and lives in Mr. Ten S's office, I really don't use it that often since my records are down in the basement, three floors down. So sitting around with Lulu and playing albums at whim and request was quite a treat for me.
What you need to understand is that my albums are my babies and always have been. I remember getting really frosty when my high school boyfriend upon our breakup suggested that I listen to The Police's "I Can't Stand Losing You." In this song it talks about returning LP's and that they got scratched up in the hands of the borrower. While he was equally OCD, encasing each record in the special anti-static/anti-scratch inner sleeve and every album in a clear plastic outer sleeve, the insinuation that I had scratched a record was just fuel for the breakup fire.
Lulu can vouch for me when I say that my albums are for the most part, aside from cat hair from past kitties being stuck inside every single album I opened, pristine. The covers just as vibrant as day one. The lyric sheets in perfect shape. The vinyl itself with no blemishes visible to the naked eye. While over the years I have been mocked from time to time about my OCD tendencies when it comes to the care and keeping of these albums (they are filed alphabetically and chronologically within each band), I am glad I was a twitchy lightswitch licking freak that obsessed about them. Years later I am the proud owner of a lovely album collection that brings me great joy and pride. And now, I will go take my medication. *twitch*twitch*
