Holy Fire

Cleaning the house to the angsty magic of Arcade Fire. Margaret is singing along with troll grunts and squeaks. Half inside the fridge trying to find THAT smell when suddenly I am breathless with happiness. Absolutely dizzy headed with the greatness of OUR lives. A more cynical person might chalk up the event to the surprisingly pungent power of a month old cucumber I found behind the milk. I know otherwise. Canadian alt rock is good, God is great and I am happy.