In Honor of World Cancer Day

I arrived at work this morning and discovered that it's World Cancer Day and I had nothing planned. Darn it! I truly think the advanced planning on this day was screwed up. Why didn't someone send me an email yesterday instead of this morning? Lance, I'm talking to you. I had to hear it through email and twitter.


Anyway, in honor of World Cancer Day, I wanted to discuss something that has nothing to do with cancer except that it is my discussion and I had a cancer diagnosis. (There, take THAT, cancer!)


I've been writing lyrics for a song for Hannah called The Junkhouse Blues,  ever since she referred to my house as a junkhouse. I decided rather than to resist the whole idea that I live in a junkhouse, and be all insulted, holding it against her for the rest of my life and hers, seething in silent resentment, being angry, petty, filled with venom, heated, mad, bitchy, wanting to smash something, moving out, poking out my eyes so I don't have to see the junkhouse, stewing about it, telling all and sundry about my ex-grand niece saying I live in a junkhouse, I'm honoring *my* junkhouse with a song. Yes! I actually sang a quick version (while I was driving in my junkmobile) on my (filthy) cellphone which I showed to Hannah, and in turn, you could just tell that she was filled with glee. She exclaimed in a very loud shrill voice, "Jan made me a song!" And she was tickled pink about the song I "made" for her, and do not argue with me about this!


My idea is to write out my lyrics that I have written to date and then have you guys fill in any verses please. Then I'm going to ask Megan to sing it on a video for Hannah because my cellphone version of me singing the song while I'm driving, and hearing my voice while only viewing my chins does not make for quality video.

The Junkhouse Blues

My name is Jan, I got the Junkhouse blues.

My niece is Hannah, and she thinks so too!

I need to clean my house all Saturdays

Just so I can go out to play.

Will you sit there like a little mouse

or come on home with me and clean my house?

Doncha ya know I got the junkhouse blues?

Come on home with me and pick up my shoes.

One day while sittin in the chair,

Hannah yelled at me, "It's like you don't care."

It's no wonder you got dis junkhouse bad.

This house is lookin mighty sad

I'm sitting here alone in your room.

Did you ever even hear 'bout a broom?

Whatcha doin when you're home all day?

Did the dust-rhinos get away?

I should have taken pictures of my junkhouse so you'd feel the same inspiration that I feel (and that dear, sweet Hannah feels) but I've been secretly cleaning my junkhouse while Hannah has been away.