Amongst the garbage was a respectable Sony Stereo system from the late 90s, that worked perfectly. I connected the antenna for Grandma, showed her how to change the radio channels, and turned it on for her.
She was ecstatic beyond belief about the success of her garbage rummaging expedition, and looked like a child with a new toy on Christmas. As is standard for Grandma, she expressed her happiness through interpretive dance.
I turned the camera on, knowing I was catching gold, but the urge to dance became too strong for me. I fought the urge to dance because dancing and filming doesn't make for good video. As expected, when ever I fight the urge to dance to poppy music, the Gay God's chastise me for being a pussy-ass-straight-guy until I finally give in, and break into dance.
Welcome to our Tuesday morning.