
MoAnday
It’s that dreaded day again,
The one that follows what should have been,
The day that’s missing an A,
They day that should be MoAnday.
I want to wrap myself in paper towels
To avoid the thunderous scowls,
The rain of terror, “aren’t you done yet!”
As I sit on the coffee pot and try to forget.
Oh, where art thou my pride?
Oh, this Moanday I can’t abide.
Oh, you’re hiding in the paper towels, too?
What, now, am I supposed to do?
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#020623