First, a confession. I'm a bouncer. No, not the kind that kicks you out of the bar, I mean the kind that can't stop moving. As a young kid, I occupied a certain place on the living room couch every single day, and, a few years later, you could tell where said spot was.
By the time the couch was replaced in the mid-1970's, my spot was at least an inch lower than the rest of it. Imprint sealed. :)
By the early 1980's, I'd moved down to the floor. In 1981, I promised myself I would stop bouncing on the "new" living room furniture, which was four years young by then, because I should. So, off to my room, onto the almost room-sized carpet that covered the wood floor. Add my brother's stereo a year later, which was later given to me, and the stage was set.
July 21, 1982. I had just returned from a vacation to North Carolina, me to visit grandparents and family, my brother to make his preparations to move down there the following month. And, within 24 hours of getting back to the Old Dominion, my first girlfriend, well, broke up with me.
Insert sad face here.
So, to deal with the disappointment, I did what I always did, hit the stereo, now complete with the BEST birthday present of my life, a pair of headphones. My Dad and Stepmom were also thrilled with themselves for making that purchase as well. :)
My brother and I came home from Carolina the night before very, very late. In fact, we pulled into Beaverdam at about the time Dad would get up to go to work at Ukrop's in Ashland. We passed each other in the hallway about 3:45 in the morning.
Thus, the following night, after sleeping in earlier in the day, I wasn't even close to sleepy. So, off to the stereo, where I jammed to the radio until about 3:40am the next morning, July 22nd.
So, long story short, that memorable night 35 years ago, I was, literally, "sitting cross leg on the floor, 25 or 6 to 4."
Here's my favorite Chicago song, a song about trying to write a song in the dead of night.