Blue Day. Formerly B Day. Day 62

I put my shirt on backwards today and then never bothered to fix it. Not the hoodie. I would have noticed that right away, especially if the hood was up. When I finally did notice, I realized the slow swirl of my soul spiraling out of me, had robbed me of ambition and replaced it with apathy. I spent the entire day with my shirt on backwards. It was easier than fixing it.

Here is a poorly rhymed poem about my day.

The neighbor is outside till ten

He hits a ball

again, again

His bat sounds like it's made of steel

Anger I think

Is what I feel

He never stops, making noise

He needs to get some indoor toys

I have to listen to him screaming

Even when I'm napping, dreaming,

I will find a way to hide his ball

For he is short and I am tall (well taller than him. He's like four feet.)

I cannot listen for another moment

The rage inside begins to foment

It's bad enough to be with kids all day

And then come home to more, hooray

I'd rather be an armadillo

They are mostly deaf, as a pillow (so the internet says)

Then I wouldn't have to hear

That stupid kid who lives too near.