Embracing Un-Coolness, and National Bad Poetry Day

5:00 this morning found me sitting on the couch, my head wrapped in a plastic grocery bag secured by clothespins, with a Spiderman towel draped over my shoulders. I was doing an emergency henna job on my hair, because later this morning, I leave for camp. And it’s important to look like a natural, glowing redhead when you’re at camp. Obvs.

So there I was, swathed in 30% post-consumer waste plastic, wearing a Spiderman cape, clipped about with clothespins, when my son reminded me that he needed a ride to his morning job at Dunkin’ Donuts. And it is a mark of how absolutely awesome Miles is that he never so much as cringed when I said, “Okay, but I can’t take the bag or the clothespins off my head. I’m going to have to drive you like this.”

This kid is so used to having an un-cool mother that nothing fazes him anymore.

On the drive home, I discovered something that made my morning. According to The Coast Morning Show, today is National Bad Poetry Day!

Naturally, my mind flew at once to the worst extant piece of poetry I have ever written. And I felt compelled to share its badness with everyone. (This may be that same instinct that leads other people to go on shows like Dr. Phil and air their dirty laundry before the world, but I assure you: sharing my awful poetry on the internet is as badly behaved as I intend to be in public.)

And now, in honor of National Bad Poetry Day, I give you my own: Ode on a Downy Fabric Softener Ball:

Downy Fabric Softener Ball

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Bats in the Bedroom

3:00 a.m. and I have a bat in my bedroom. An hour ago, I woke up to gusts of cool breeze around my head, and thought foggily, I don't remember leaving the window open. There's always that instant where you really know what the truth is, but you don't want to confess it to yourself, so I lay there awhile longer, trying to pretend that it really wasn’t a bat careening around inside my bedroom; that I really had left a window open, and that the night had just turned windy. Then the bat crashed into a wall, and I had no choice but to turn on the light and face the facts.

 Bats in the Bedroom

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