Hi, happy Friday! I hope...
I thought all night about going down into the basement to retrieve the red binder. I was even down there to scoop poopies and watch Georgie pee! But, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I'll dig it out this weekend. It's sitting on top of a box, so there's actually no digging involved. Sad. That's how pathetic the poetry is. There's one about a squirrel, though! And, in that class I had to also write stories, so I might publish my pigeon story, the catalyst for which was a real event in my life. I admit it - I love squirrels, pigeons, seagulls, mice, rats (okay, not love but at least like), and anything else commonly thought of as a varmint animal. But, don't ask me about bugs. I can't. No. Not the bugs. Go away. No. Shoo!
3 comments:
What the hell.
Where's my poem Poppy?
Unacceptable!
This is bullshit.
I used to write bad poetry, too.
I haven't the heart to torture my readers with it.
Even though I, too, know exactly where it is.
Happy Friday.
Thérèse, you're awesome.
Leesepea, I think you should torture us. :)
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