I used to get right into the part when we were singing Gilbert and Sullivan, and I always teared up a little when singing that German love song to beer, but the buildup at the end of the Swingle Singers version of the Organ Fugue was the only time I've ever had to stop singing to prevent myself from crying.
It felt weird wearing a tux this early in the season, but not half as weird as practicing Christmas carols in September.
Choir practice was moved to tonight because nobody wants to go to choir on the last night of a 4-day week. We couldn't use our normal room, but fortunately one of the Catholic priests in the choir is also the president of this college, so we got to use the chapel. It has better windows and a worse piano.
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