My First Country Song

I had this idea for a country song a few weeks ago. Now, bear in mind, I can’t sing. I can’t play guitar. Heck, I don’t even have a twang, so the idea of me coming up with a country song doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

What’s worse, I don’t like country music either, but there’s one thing I admire about songwriters of that genre. They have a knack for shedding new light on ordinary things. I love that. Give me a song about a grandfather’s old toolbox, I’m a lost man.

So I was hunched over the kitchen sink one morning, scrubbing down a pot or two. They were probably left over from dinner the night before. And this thought comes to my head, someone should write a love song about washing leftover dishes. I’ve heard plenty of rhapsodic declarations of unfailing devotion and inexpressible ecstasy, but not enough about simple, true love. Not enough about love that washes dishes with you long after the dinner party has faded into the night.

Okay, so maybe this doesn’t sound too romantic after all. Give me a break, it’s only my first country song.