I woke up today with a distinct tune in the back of my head and kept humming it to myself as I undressed on the way to the bathroom. The humming evolved to whistling, which in turn evolved to a clean-cut ta-ta-ta-daing as the hot water started pouring down.
It was a Loud Reed song though I can’t really remember its name. It came from the soundtrack album from the Friends TV series, about ten years ago.
I lent it to R****’s sister there around ’98 or something, and I think I never really bothered to get it back from her.

Which in turn reminded me of a hypothetical stack of CDs of mine that were probably, and eventually, left in G****’s possession after we kind of stopped seeing each other a few years back and the stack must include a Phil Collins album and maybe some The Police stuff too.
F**** on the other hand took off with at least a Mark Knopfler album with instrumental music he did for the movies. Which is ungodly weird, because F**** was never really into that kind of music anyhow.
Then there’s also the mystery of the purloined Beach Boys and Roy Orbinson albums, which have been relegated to the mists of time & the poor, doomed, failed minute-and-a-half relationships.

You owe me no CDs. That’s how brief it was, I suppose.
I owe you a comicbook script on the occasion of your wedding, though, one I haven’t really written yet.

You’re probably diving for pearls right now.
That’s what I think of you, when I do.