Music is a crutch when it comes to exercise. I do not care for it.
Of course, I’ve cared very little for music since my wife died, my lovely Amoretti Pavarotti Linetti, the famous opera singer who was called ‘The Dulcet Anaconda’. That was because of her ability to unhinge her jaw while she sang, allowing her to achieve crystal-clear high notes that none others can reach. Unfortunately she tragically passed away at an open air concert when a sparrow flew into her throat, choking her to death. My poor wife, gone forever. And my love for music, taken with her to the grave.
Now I just help out at the local sports club, mostly fixing their indoor sports netting because of my darning skills that I picked up when I was shut in for a year after Amaretti’s death. It soothes my soul, mending, hanging and servicing netting, but it does bring me into contact with music more than I would like. There’s music playing over the speaker at the sports centre. People have music in their ears as the do exercise at the gym. Always, always there are music videos playing on the televisions in front of the treadmills, instead of literally anything else.
Thus, it is my dilemma. I want to work with netting, for it is my one comfort. But I cannot simply take the nets home and work on them there, because we’re talking indoor sports netting that reaches to the ceiling and it just doesn’t fit in my car there’s so much of it. So I must expose myself to the music, and the thoughts of my songbird, Amoretti Pavarotti Linetti Arpagoti.
Perhaps this is my punishment for allowing her to sing at an open air concert with such a high bird population in the trees above. Or is it…a sign? My love for all kinds of netting (even indoor cricket nets, which have those triple stitches that wear down my fingers after a while) combined with so much music, indicating that I should embrace the power of song once more? It could be a message from beyond the grave from my sweet anaconda…