Day 9 had a prompt to write a poem in the noir style. All I could think of was the Steve Martin movie and now I can't think of anything else. Well, that and Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
Alas, I do not have enough noir to draw from so I've skipped day 9.
Day 10.
An Un-Love poem.
Not to be confused with a poem of hate.
These dishes
you've created for us are
delicious.
These dishes
you've piled in the sink are
vicious.
These dishes
fill me with thoughts
malicious.
Learn to
wash as you go or
sleep with the fishes.
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Monday, April 22, 2013
Monday, November 21, 2011
Math
I like math.
I like plugging numbers into my Google Doc budget planner, and watching it do calculations for me. I like having my calculator at the ready, to double check the figures, and to see if my own brain carried the decimal over correctly. I like sitting at the computer while Frasier plays in the background. I like taking a break to paint my nails. I like folding the laundry, making the beds, running a load of dishes, sweeping the floors, ironing the tablecloth, wiping down plastic toys, cleaning out the refrigerator, calling my grandma in Modesto, dusting the houseplants...oh cripes.
I hate math.
I hate watching the numbers in the withdrawal section add up and get dangerously close to the deposit section. Threatening to topple all, to make my entire spreadsheet turn red. I hate the unexpected expense that throws my budget off and forces an early extraction. I hate the projected end balance when it doesn't make an upwardly mobile jaunt. I hate the smell of this nail polish. I hate this black spot on the wall that even the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser won't scrub off, the sticky spot under the baby's highchair, the layer of cat hair on the rug, the dust on the lamp shades, the squeak of the ironing board, the churning of the washer as it struggles to rinse, oh crap.
If one SAHM with two kids drives 35mph for four miles, while another SAHM who is pregnant with her second drives 65mph for seven miles, what time will they arrive at Target if they both leave right now?
I like plugging numbers into my Google Doc budget planner, and watching it do calculations for me. I like having my calculator at the ready, to double check the figures, and to see if my own brain carried the decimal over correctly. I like sitting at the computer while Frasier plays in the background. I like taking a break to paint my nails. I like folding the laundry, making the beds, running a load of dishes, sweeping the floors, ironing the tablecloth, wiping down plastic toys, cleaning out the refrigerator, calling my grandma in Modesto, dusting the houseplants...oh cripes.
I hate math.
I hate watching the numbers in the withdrawal section add up and get dangerously close to the deposit section. Threatening to topple all, to make my entire spreadsheet turn red. I hate the unexpected expense that throws my budget off and forces an early extraction. I hate the projected end balance when it doesn't make an upwardly mobile jaunt. I hate the smell of this nail polish. I hate this black spot on the wall that even the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser won't scrub off, the sticky spot under the baby's highchair, the layer of cat hair on the rug, the dust on the lamp shades, the squeak of the ironing board, the churning of the washer as it struggles to rinse, oh crap.
If one SAHM with two kids drives 35mph for four miles, while another SAHM who is pregnant with her second drives 65mph for seven miles, what time will they arrive at Target if they both leave right now?
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