At least the cats didn't pee and poo all over the house like they do when they are displeased with the odd person feeding them. They also tend to protest the lack of a human around to break up fights and keep the wacko Lupine in line. I am having fantasies about taking her to the shelter and 'relinquishing' her. But no one would adopt her because she is psycho. *guilt guilt* Sigh.
The writers are once again rescheduling, a grateful thing because I have nothing to critique. Nothing. What I'm writing lately is bizarre, even for me. And Pat always wants my poems to make sense. I'm in my squirrel nutkin phase.
Off to see the chiropractor now. Maybe she can help me walk again. With her magic wand. In the library.
3 comments:
biting my tongue
ok unbiting. perhaps this pat of whom you speak who could be either a man or a woman not of my acquaintance given the nongender type name of "pat" is just not a careful or learn-ed reader of poetry. your poems have always made perfect sense to me.
xo
hahahahahahahaha! thank you, dear Rebecca.
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