iPod Hijinks

A few weeks back the owner of my apartment building decided that the time had come to replace some of the worn exterior wood bits. This meant that for about two weeks straight there were carpenters all over the place, with saws going, wrenches turning, hammers banging, the whole works. I got used to seeing the guys, and since I was one of the few people around during the day they got used to seeing me. We even had a few conversations about my car, and I got used to being around people once again.
   Then they were gone, and I was alone. Bereft, as it were. No more racket interrupting my concentration, no more trucks blocking the entrance, no more Big Gulp cups on the stairs.
   So this morning I was headed out to the gym, wearing my iPod. While I do wear it at the gym, I rarely wear it any other time, so this was unusual. I was walking down the stairs, iPod kicking it old school with a little Public Enemy, Flavor Flav with 'Can't Do Nuttin' for You Man', a jaunty little ditty if ever there was one. Like many people do when they think they're alone, I was singing along, which I thought was humming, or maybe whispering.
   But I wasn't alone. I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the plumber. He was coming up the stairs as I was going down and we met in the middle. Since he was the one with the toolbox I stepped out of the way and he kind of raised an eyebrow at me.
   'Gotta love the Flavor,' he said as he climbed to the second floor.
   Perfect. There's nothing like an extremely white guy like me getting caught rapping. Kind of pathetic and presumptuous at the same time. Guilty, as charged.
   I turned the iPod off until I got to the gym.