My mom called me yesterday morning, to see if I was okay. I had spent part of Saturday with my parents, and I guess that I just wasn’t myself. And honnestly I haven’t felt like myself lately. Usually Mondays are opened with some sort of terrible poetry, but today, I don’t even feel like I have that in me. My husband is working stupid long hours and by the time he gets home we are both tired and grumpy, and I live with two moody teenagers. I mean that alone is enough to drive you around the bend!
But in order to make myself feel better, I feel the need to get things accomplished. I must write this terrible poem so that I can check it off my list so that it doesn’t become another thing hanging over my head! Put on pants… CHECK! Brush teeth… CHECK! Make it to the office… CHECK! Write awful poem….CHECK! Really it is the little things that keep me going.
T’was only the fifth time I told them,
“These socks, I’m not going to fold them.
And if they keep making that face,
At the food on their plate ,
The police will never be able to find them.”
Hurry home husband, the kids are driving me crazy!