Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
Everyone's favorite donkey, jenny_o, who claims she is a Procrastinating Donkey, said that paper is the theme for this week's Poetry Monday. I've never been good at writing a poem with a particular theme. My poetry shoots out of the top of my head, lands in pieces on the floor, and then has to be put together.
So I'm trying to remember if I've written a poem in the past that has something to do with paper. Let me take a gander at my old poetry posts. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. Probably.
Look at the photo of the cute donkeys while I'm gone:
Okay. I'm back. I can't think of a poem that has anything to do with paper, and I looked at some of my older poems. Nothing about paper. Furthermore, I realized I've written some freaking weird poems.
No poem today, but visit Procrastinating Donkey. jenny_o will probably have a poem.
I'm writing this post on Sunday morning. It rained earlier and the temperature is only 81 at 10:35 a.m. I'm trying to stay awake so I'll sleep tonight. I get my days and nights mixed up. I told my nice neighbor across the street that I was born to run the streets at night. I'm a real wild child.
Willy Dunne Wooters suggested that I start using my blog as therapy, the way I did when I started blogging. It helped a lot then. I don't know if it will help now or if I'll just feel whiny.
Willy Dunne Wooters has been and might still be in the hospital because of an infection. He actually called an ambulance instead of calling me to take him to the hospital. I swear I think the man is so terrified that he'll be beholden to someone that he would rather spend a fortune on an ambulance than let me take him to the hospital. I emailed him a while ago to ask how he is. He hasn't answered.
I'll let you know how he is when I find out.
Paper . . . I still have paper on the brain.
Nope! Can't think of a thing.
And I'm so sleepy. I have a long day of trying to stay awake ahead of me. Arrrrrrrgh, all I really wanna do is take a nap.
Oh! Something else happened that was weird. Sunday night--I think it was Sunday night or maybe Monday--I was spraying something with WD40. The can stopped spraying, but I knew it wasn't empty. I stuck a pin in the schnozzle in case it was clogged. Nothing happened and then all of a sudden it started spraying really hard and of course I had my face close to the can so I could see the schnozzle and it sprayed me in the eyes! Mostly my left eye.
It hurt. I might have cursed some. The can said if you get it in your eyes to flush them with water. So I did.
My eyes stung and watered a lot. But they got better the next day.
Ooooooooh, I'm so sleepy. My kingdom for a nap.
As soon as I find out about Willy Dunne Wooters, I'll let you know, and I'll tell you if I was able to stay awake all day. I want to give in and sleep, sleep, sleep . . . .
Infinities of love,
Paper . . . still thinking paper . . . .
The Paper Caper--sounds as if it could be a good title for a mystery novel, but why would someone steal paper?
I think that Julie Andrews not being able to sing anymore is one of the saddest things in the world. I saw her on Broadway (second row seats) in Victor Victoria. She was wonderful.
It just occurred to me that maybe Willy Dunne Wooters made up the whole thing about the infection so he can sneak away from me.
I'm so sleepy that my mind is wandering all over the place.
Update: Willy Dunne Wooters is out of the hospital and resting at home.