Cleaning shelves and thinking of how calm Barry Manilow looks...

Ah, the cyclical nature of house cleaning; I was back in the kitchen today. Rather, I was back in the kitchen this evening. Nothing really started until 8:00. It's been a long day.

What got accomplished:

*Surfaces cleaned, cupboard doors washed, and the inside shelves of all the above-the-counter cupboards
*Sinks, counter tops, and rage cleaned
*Microwave cleaned, toaster cleaned
*Light fixtures dusted (yes, Emily, I actually did them)
*Inside and outside of trashcan wiped down

The rest is going to have to wait until tomorrow or later this week. I'm just too tired.

You see, I was in the studio today. The computer determined that it was ready to come back out and play, and I snuggled up to the microphone to lay down the harmony tracks that I was 89% sure of.

How quickly I fell from 89% back to 50%. It just didn't work, people. Take after take, I either wasn't able to hit the first note dead on, or I would mess up somewhere else in the verse. Frustrated doesn't even begin to cover it. I didn't make it home in a very upbeat mood. Though you might not believe it, the act of recording is exhausting. It requires a lot of concentration, but also demands that you be completely relaxed if you are going to get anything worthwhile accomplished.

Were you to ask my boyfriend if I am capable of relaxing. he would laugh in your face, as would nearly anyone who knows me well. I mean, come on, I've started a cleaning blog. Someone who could relax would have chosen to write about something, anything else. Not me. No ma'am.

So, an inability to relax added to a natural tendency to be nervous when recording harmony vocals = no success at said harmony tracks. That's right folks, nothing I sang got saved. Why? Because it was God-awful.

I needed inspiration. And said inspiration came to me in the form of Barry Manilow (say what you will; Mr. Manilow is brilliant, and I won't hear a word against him). Marco, my boyfriend, was at Sam Flax buying art supplies today and came across a brilliant sketch book made from the album jacket from Barry Manilow's This One's For You. On the inside cover of the book (which would have been the back cover of the album jacket) there's a picture of Barry sitting in a bar stool, cup in his hand, one leg crossed over the other, eyes closed, listening to whatever was going on in the headphones. And. He. Looked. Relaxed. Really relaxed. It was what I needed to have been, and everything that I was not, today.

So the next time I saddle up to that mic, I'm going to keep Barry Manilow in my head, close my eyes, and remember that I'm lucky enough to be making music. And then I'm going to sing the mess right out of those tracks.

Word.