Poem for Monday

Mr. Grumpledump's Song
By Shel Silverstein

Everything's wrong,
Days are too long,
Sunshine's too hot,
Wind is too strong.
Clouds are too fluffy,
Grass is too green,
Ground is too dusty,
Sheets are too clean.
Stars are too twinkly,
Moon is too high,
Water's too drippy,
Sand is too dry.
Rocks are too heavy,
Feathers too light,
Kids are too noisy,
Shoes are too tight.
Folks are too happy,
Singin' their songs.
Why can't they see it?
Everything's wrong!

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Had a good mother's day...as I mentioned, we went down to the waterfront to see the Amistad, bypassing the Million Mom March (am very ambivalent about gun legislation right now; am furious about the proliferation of unlicensed weapons, but don't want any state or federal legislature to have the ability to put restrictive interpretations on the Bill of Rights, period, even an amendment whose most liberal interpretation troubles me). My younger son made me this:



My older son made me origami animals. My husband got me Mary Chapin Carpenter's new CD and, better yet, family membership for the USS Constellation so we can go on the ship whenever we're in Baltimore. (We're already members of the Maryland Science Center and the National Aquarium so we go to Baltimore quite often.)



All right, I give up. If wants me to suffer Death By Orlando Bloom, again, I don't see what I can do about it, nor even why I should try. *sobs at own shallowness and lack of resolve*

Am stuck at home with no vehicle, waiting for various banks to get back to us with various loan numbers, doing thrilling tasks like laundry. Suppose I had better work or something.