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I had a dream last night about turntables.

Hold on for a second….the coffee’s ready downstairs.

OK…I’m back.

I had a dream last night about turntables.

They were everywhere.

They were under the bed, in the closet….down in the kitchen….in the bathroom, even.

Somewhere in the dream, I panicked because I noticed that a couple of the ones in the bathroom had been stepped on….and the dust covers were broken.

I was angry until I remembered that I had turntables stacked everywhere.

I could spare a couple if I had hundreds of replacements.


I haven’t had a turntable set up since my older children were little.

That’s been 20 years or so.

Little crazy hands and turntables don’t go together.

Or, maybe….THEY DO!!!!

And….that’s the problem.

(Those last 5 sentences are the “real part”. I jumped from a dream to my reality too quickly there.  That’s a hard jump if you didn’t see it coming…..)

What was I saying?

Oh, yeah….that’s the problem.

It’s a problem because a turntable can be broken and sidelined by any number of subtle and nefarious machinations.

I have no faith that a turntable can survive a house with young children.

You can’t go retro with new blood in the place.

Maybe I’ll give it another shot one of these days soon.

WHYMY (that could be a word, right?) so nostalgic for a round piece of plastic that corrals my music?

Why am I dreaming about turntables?

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