Back in February when I was still working, both my co-workers Lacy and McKenzie had urged me to download Taylor Swift’s 1989.
This did not sound like a thing I wanted to do.
“I’m telling you – it’s amazing. Perfect running music,” McKenzie had said with reverence.
Lacy had nodded in agreement. “It will change your life.”
“Fine,” I’d said. I downloaded and listened to it once.
“Not for me,” I’d declared the next day.
They both looked at me and shook their heads sadly as if to say, “She just doesn’t get it.”