I'm a believer!

Just like that, I was singing. The song was in my head, so what else could I do? This was a few days ago. A cold afternoon. Pizza dough rising in the oven. Perhaps the smell of yeast brings out the song. The Monkees? H asked from the kitchen. What? I yelled back, not liking the smile I heard any more than I liked the interruption. That's who sings it, he said. Bah! I searched YouTube, thinking he couldn't possibly be right, and then I saw my face! It was like looking in the mirror. In the space of 2:25 minutes I saw my hair, my bad bangs, my quick little Monkee grin, and the weird little dance I call a life. It's true, those jerky moves are in my jeans. Now I'm a B! Leave her! Just kidding. I think. The cat glared at me like she's glaring now. Yeah, I'm singing. Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. Sorry, cat, but I'm in love! I was born clutching an invisible tambourine. What's the use in trying to let go?