The first time I heard the subway busker playing "Don't worry, Be happy", it made my day. Rushing from platform to platform juggling my yoga bag, knapsack, and coffee; feeling slightly harried and aleady running late with the day just starting -the song was perfect. After a couple of weeks, however, the novelty has worn off. It's become less of a happy coincidence to catch that particular song at that particular time and more a realization that it doesn't matter what particular time I pass by, this is the only song he plays. Ever.
This morning as the now familiar sound of "Don't worry, Be happy" met me as I rushed through the subway I felt irritated. Ticked off. Enough with the song. Still, as I drew closer to the spot where the busker stood, I couldn't help myself, I began to smile. Maybe it's the way he peppers the song with little comments, calling out "Happy Monday", "Just take it step by step", and "You'll get there", or maybe it's just that the damn song itself is just so likeable; but by the time I reached him I sported a huge grin and cheerfully greeted him with a "Happy Monday" of my own.
And, yeah, the song has been stuck in my head all morning but, really, there are far worse things then having "Don't worry, Be happy" running on repeat through my mind.
Happy Monday all.
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