Little Poem

Loft clean. Gretchen gone. Sprocket silent. TV on. Screen clean. Coffee hot. Posture good. Weather not. A shower is in my future. I know only because Cleo told me; I called for a free readin'. She didn't tell me what kind of realpoo I'd be using. See, we don't have any shampoo around here. The woman prefers to be all natural, all the time. My 2,000 places are clean enough with Irish or Ivory. I can't believe I'm going to be Trekking all day on the couch. I love the new TNN! They might as well turn it into the Star Trek channel. No arguments here. I'd love to know that I could tune into an episode any time, day or night. Except for TOS. My friends and I have this little maxim: “If Worf ain't there, we don't care.” I'm kidding, of course. I don't have any friends.

Which would probably explain why I've chosen to spend the day relaxing in my home. I'm not disappointed with my decision. Gretchen would just as soon drag me around the city to window shop. Well, I can still do that here. Ya know, with a Web browser? I should probably be working ahead so that I don't have to spend so much time on Lockergnome next weekend. Eh, we'll see.

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