It's no use whining, perhaps you should have kept up the yoga. The fact of the matter is, you're gonna have to stay crossed for at least another 24 hours. I know you can do it, breath in through the thumb and out through the index. For what it's worth, I know how hard it is to stay crossed and type, but sometimes you just have to suck it up soldier...
You get a bad rap, I for one, am a fan. Sunday is my favourite, but you come a close second. There's something about your morning that makes everything seem so achievable. You are the let's get down to business day, the elbow in the ribcage of the week, gently nudging and reminding us all that once every seven days, a fresh start is possible. It's not that fresh starts aren't possible at any other second, it's just something about you makes it seem so likely.
Why just today we achieved so much, because let's face it, we can't possibly be thinking about any of this stuff come Friday. You know what he's like, he won't stand for it, with his naughty twinkle in his eye, headbutting his way through to Saturday. Ahh recuperation, thy name is Saturday.
Thursday so desperately wants to be Friday, he's kinda painful to be around. Tuesday? Well he can be as naughty as Friday, just to prove he can be and so he rarely leaves me with any energy for Wednesday who so desperately needs it, he's a typical middle child, nice enough but in need of some attention lest he should be forgotten.
And so sweet Monday, you have my allegiance, I could never befriend a Boomtown Rat, for Monday, I like you, I like you a lot...
Well you picked your target didn't you? I can see it now, whirling through my body like a hormonal rocket. Yes, yes, you cry, I think I'll make her a witch and so there you are, with no advance warning, right on my chin. The witch analogy is no exaggeration on my part, for just this very morning I was offered a cut price cauldron in exchange for a go on my broom. Alas I am lacking in magic potions, for if I had one, t'would not be long before I made you disappear...
Hurry up and grow. I know you're growing as fast as you can, but I am eyeballing the baby bio and thinking if it works for tomatoes impatient. I am looking at her Royal Hairiness herself, Girls World, through squinted peepers, you know the kind they use in westerns before someone has to draw. Glossy as the day is long, no follicle vexation in her future, just an ever growing mane sprouting from the crown of her head. No matter how many times my niece takes a scissors to it, out pops another foot in seconds.
At the moment you are neither short nor long and I feel like I am channeling my geography teacher from 91. We're not even talking eighties, but the look of a woman from a decade so dull no one can name a single good song or item of apparel they would want to repeat. Oh nineties, you are the equivalent of boiled cauliflower in the arsenal of Father Time and I am the poster child for the ghost of geography teachers past.
I cut my fringe today in an attempt to make the rest of you look longer, we just about diverted tragedy, then, a slip of the sneaky scissors resulted in an homage to Mo, not Tucker, I'm talking Stooges, as in three of them, pass the horn I need to honk...
My feet are very cross, very cross indeed. They have waited patiently and now they are tapping toes. I tried to explain, it's not my fault, this inclement weather we're having has put a stop to you, lovely boots, leaving their box. I felt like a snitch when I spoke to my feet, I felt like I had turned my back on my true love, snow, or at least one of my true loves, damn I'm fickle...
I tried to appease my feet by taking a turn around the living room, I even put on lipstick to mark the occasion but I don't know how much longer I can pacify them with parlour tricks. We may have to bite the bullet and go outdoors, we can dance around the ice as if we are in the ballet, on the plus side, people always get out of the way for crazy folk.
I'm just trying to give you a heads up, there may be scuffing in your future, I think you may look even better with a few flaws, most things do. Still, if we fall over, we fall over together and we fall over in style...
I don't know how to reassure you. The disappointments, well they've come thick and fast of late, and my words may fall on deaf ears, but I promise, it will all be okay. You are big and open and lovely, you show understanding and kindness in the face of those who don't deserve it, you have hope when all seems lost, a nose for mischief and fun. As hearts go you have so much ahead of you that is good, that the current level of vile behaviour will soon be forgotten and you will bounce back like the rubber ball you are, back in the game and the crowd go wild...
Take heart, even though you are one, in the fact that worse has happened and you found your way back. This is merely a blip, an intermission, a disruption of service, the opposition only ever really wins if you let them.
So, dust your self off, put on your lippy, ask my lungs to pump faster, do whatever it takes, it's okay to get knocked down but doesn't it feel better to stand up...?
Stay back, my eyelids are under instruction to blink you back into oblivion. You've had more than your fair share of my cheeks lately. You are in fact, a waste of perfectly good mascara and eye liner, get back in your box and stay there. You are no longer welcome...
We get our allergy test on Thursday, so the excessive amounts that I am plying you with at the moment are only a temporary measure. It's a little bit like being a camel I guess, I'm aiming for two humps, stockpiling. You know she'll be one of those earnest types who eliminates all the good stuff. I'm fairly certain she'll try to convince us we're allergic to fun, but we know better. We will do as were told just to wipe the smug smile of Will Power's face, you know he thinks we won't be able to summon him, we'll see about that.
In the meantime, I've had a word with all my trousers and they appreciate you may put a post Christmas pre test strain on their bands for the next couple of days. I'm prepping myself to say goodbye, I'm fairly certain wheat is gonna take the hit, God love her if she tells us it's potatoes...
I know you're growing as fast as you can, but I am eyeballing the baby bio and thinking if it works for tomatoes impatient. I am looking at her Royal Hairiness herself, Girls World, through squinted peepers, you know the kind they use in westerns before someone has to draw. Glossy as the day is long, no follicle vexation in her future, just an ever growing mane sprouting from the crown of her head. No matter how many times my niece takes a scissors to it, out pops another foot in seconds.
we just about diverted tragedy, then, a slip of the sneaky scissors resulted in an homage to Mo, not Tucker, I'm talking Stooges, as in three of them, pass the horn I need to honk...
and my words may fall on deaf ears, but I promise, it will all be okay. You are big and open and lovely, you show understanding and kindness in the face of those who don't deserve it, you have hope when all seems lost, a nose for mischief and fun. As hearts go you have so much ahead of you that is good, that the current level of vile behaviour will soon be forgotten and you will bounce back like the rubber ball you are, back in the game and the crowd go wild...
