Brick. House.

It seems like nearly everywhere I go lately, that song is playing:

In the grocery store earlier this week: Brick. House. A woman with a baby in her cart sang softly as she looked at soup.

In Target yesterday: Brick. House. I walked around, looking for things I could not find but was happy to be in an air-conditioned, non-humid environment. I sang along in my head before going back to Heat Stroke Villa, which is what I will call my non-air-conditioned apartment.

Today at the gym: Brick. House. I did squats and wondered why a woman who is "36-24-36" would be considered anyone's Brick House. She just sounds skinny to me, which seems like the opposite of a Brick House. Clearly, the Commodores were confused by our sexist, fat-phobic culture.

Is the entire town of Natick on the same Musak loop?

Incidentally, our new apartment will be in a brick building. A Brick House if you will.