The house is quiet...for the moment. So far today I've got the living room vacuumed, the kitchen and game room swept and mopped, and a painting hung in Maddie's room. I need to clean both bathrooms and vacuum the upstairs but Maddie is napping so it'll have to wait until she wakes up. Not only would the vacuum wake her up but even if I didn't have to vacuum I still can't clean without blasting the stereo.
Today I'm cleaning to a mix...heavily sprinkled with Michael Jackson. I still can't believe he's dead; it was so unexpected. It's bizarre to think that someone I grew up listening to could be gone. I remember being about 5 and running next door to my aunt's house, begging her to crank up her stereo. "Bad" was my favorite album. We would bounce around the living room, me dragging my feet across her carpet, trying to moonwalk.
As I got older, I more fully appreciated the musical genius that he was. Many a Halloween party and bar trip were spent trying to do the "Thriller" dance.
Thus far, most of the tributes and rememberances seem to be focusing on that genius, the entertainer, and not the scandals and eccentricities that came to a forefront briefly in the late 90s. And I think that's appropriate; when it comes down to it I believe Michael was still a sad, lonely little boy desperate for his father's approval and acceptance.
I hope he found his Neverland.