Monday, February 25, 2008

Three guesses what I've been doing lately

1. Fear paralyzes me.

The longer I wait, the worse it gets.

I need to go down there, but I'm afraid to confront it. It grew continually all last week, and now it's out of control. At any minute, it could burst out of the basement and flood the house.

It's like a big, baggy, cottony Godzilla. If I concentrate, I can almost hear it making that eerie screeching noise. You know the one.

The very idea of hearing that unearthly sound should make my blood run cold.

But let's face it; Godzilla was actually so feeble ... they should have waited for the technology to improve, but no, they had to go ahead and make all these dumb movies with obviously fake, cheesey monsters ... Right. I'll come in again.

2. It beckons to me, and I respond. Oh, how I respond! After a week of acting coy, of playing the game, of testing boundaries, I have met my match. I know my master, and he is downstairs in the basement. Waiting for me to turn him right side out and stuff him in the washing machine ... OK, that isn't working, either.

3. Haiku

Snow falls; ice slicks streets.
We never go out--Netflix!
So who is wearing these clothes?


  1. I wish I had a basement to hide all mine in. It attacks right from inside the main house. I have to constantly be on my guard.

  2. And whose bright idea was it to have a dinner that needed a tablecloth and napkins? Sheesh.

  3. jeans can be worn several times before needing a washing. just fyi.

  4. blackbird: No duvets. That shit gets sent out. And I think I need to start doing that with the sheets. There are still these laundries around here--I see the trucks all the time. And just sending out the sheets would save me three loads a week.

    f&f: See, this is the evil down side to that whole laundry room-upstairs-where people live thing. And tablecloths? Are you shitting me? My mother gave me a whole bunch of her "fine linens" and it all stays nicely stacked up the way it was when she handed it over.

    sweetney: I don't wash mine until they're so bagged out they're falling off my flat white-girl ass.

    But my kids? Wouldn't believe you unless Gwen Stefani was photographed wearing a t-shirt that said so.

    So get cracking, will ya? A glorious future in t-shirt design could be yours!


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.