Confession: I am a closet dancer

Warning: This post probably isn't very interesting to anyone else but any fellow closet dancers who thought they were alone.  Well, guess what?  You aren't.

It's 10:11 pm and I just came up from the basement. 

The basement is the best way for me to hide away my shameful secret, away from neighbors who might be going out to their cars or looking out their windows, away from the puzzled expression of my spouse.  

I was in the tub, when suddenly I realized it.

I need to dance.  NOW.

Drain tub. Dry. Dress.  Find iPod.  Wet hair.  Basement.

If you'd looked in the basement window, you would have seen a 34 year old girl...ahem..woman, flailing about in a ryhthmic fashion.  Kicking.  Gyrating.  Lip-syncing or just beltin' it out.  Other dance moves involved: The Sprinkler, a very enthusiastic Running Man, the Robot (is dancing ever complete without it?), and something I like to call the Drop It Like It's Hot and Then Come Back Up Slowly Because It Hurts My Knees.  

Every now and then I just get these bursts of energy that can't be used cleaning or making a paper banner or baking a cake. 

The other part of this is the music.  I don't normally listen to rap or hip-hop, but I have to dance to it.  

My top jams:

Usher

Daddy Yankee

Pitbull

Ludacris

Yin Yang Twins

Salt N Peppa

E-40

But something really magical happens when "Pump Up the Jam" by Technotronic comes on.  

I would suggest giving me a wide berth on that one, else you'll be hit by a flailing (yet controlled) limb.

One day, hopefully far in the future, I may have to give up my secret dancing.  Brixton may not appreciate seeing his mom in that state (heck, Brendan might not even appreciate it now and he's my only possible audience member) but it would be great for shock value.

Now my burst of 25 minutes of energy is gone and I'm listening to Taylor Swift.  And my hair is in that half-dry phase and I have no energy (left) to dry it.  And I have an interview tomorrow.  A job?  No, a mom interview.  As in I'm going to a playgroup thing here in town and looking for mom friends.  So tomorrow I'll go as frumpy, undone mom and maybe next week I won't get this rogue burst of So You Think You Can Dance and be able to actually dry my hair and get to be "Wow, she has it pulled together mom."

*Snort*  They seriously should have just seen me.

Okay, I know this post is whatever, but I have to believe there are others out there.  I understand if you don't want to come forward, so it's just fine to leave me out here hanging.  

 (Deep in robotic concentration)