After terminating a lot of old folks,
By making them move into the office,
It turns out people can work at home.
From sometime in 2020
After terminating a lot of old folks,
By making them move into the office,
It turns out people can work at home.
From sometime in 2020
Sadness is still here.
House is now one dog quieter.
Seems very quiet.
Start with coffee time.
Shower, shave, traffic, office.
Meetings, work, traffic.
Wife is sleeping.
Chihuahua is snoring.
Wordle is done for the day.
Time for another coffee.
Maybe a nap.
I finished my taxes Thursday.
This was a day early.
Actually, it was four days early.
The deadline changed again.
Taxes used to be simple.
April 15th.
The Ides of April.
(Just realized that.)
April 15th is my birthday eve.
So, that also made it easy.
If I was trying to avoid a party,
My taxes were due.
I guess it’s now a floating holiday.
Just like all the other holidays.
George? Abraham?
You were born on the 18th this year.
I am not a Princess.
I am a Queen, Dammit.
Hear me roar.
Where is my food?
Where are my subjects?
Where are my snacks?
I am waiting.
Do you not hear me?
I can be louder.
This is my castle.
Quake before me.
But first, snacks.
RIP Kaitlin Renee (2006-2022)
It’s almost my birthday.
Happy Birthday to me.
Well, at my advancing age,
it’s more bah humbug.
Sixty-two is a blah event.
It’s not like I’m sixty.
It’s not like I’m sixty-five.
I’m rich!
I’m wealthy!
I’m socially secure!
I’m old enough to get the joke.
(Thank you, Daffy.)
Dying smoke detectors will beep beep beep.
This of course while I was trying to sleep.
I heard it dying, yet beeping away.
Saying, “Your wife should have fixed this yesterday.”
Simple fix – she took the battery out.
But then the alarm began to pout.
Pouting is a long anguished scream.
It is worse than a battery out of steam.
No more napping time will it allow
It wants a battery and it wants it now.
We had an extra one on hand.
Or it would be buried in the sand.
Everyone else went back to bed.
I will go to work sleepy instead.
The smoke alarm doesn’t make a peep.
Which is certainly better than beep beep beep.
I write a new poem every day.
I write them each and every way.
Some are bad,
Some are good.
Some are plastic,
Some are wood.
This one is a wee bit late.
But it still is on the date.
Good night.
Bird seed is tasty.
Mom yelled at me about it.
It is still tasty.