Last week in my work world was supes slooow. So slow it got me thinking about my first “real job” out of college, which was the slowest job I ever worked, testing software at a weird logistics company (yawn). In order to pass many a dull hour at said occupation, my coworker and I would email limericks back and forth to each other. One of us would initiate the theme and then the other would build off of it, so by the end of the day, we'd have a totally ridiculous, undoubtedly entertaining story. It did wonders for our sanity and our funny bones. But more on this in a minute.
In contrast to my work life, my personal life of late has been bonkers, per usual. Job, kids, husband, grocery lists, laundry...you know the drill. Also I was sick and virtually on couch rest for a whole day (personally prescribed). Also, after I got the couch, I threw out my back and I'm still hobbling around like Gollum. But beyond all that, this week’s cray has been punctuated by a severe punch in the gut by Mother Nature. Unseasonably low temps have descended upon us good Minnesotans, turning an already busy mid November into a blustery hell, the likes of which we usually don’t complain about until at least January 2nd. But here we are, cold, forsaken and seemingly alone.
But instead of using my abundance of desk time to launch into a series of unseasonably harsh complaints, I turned to my old friend the limerick. Aside from being a welcomed distraction, I originally thought writing a limerick would be a great way to churn out a quick and witty blog post, you know, since I had all this spare time and it's definitely been a minute since I've posted anything. But then I got a little carried away.
Also, turns out, limericks aren’t as easy as I remember. Maybe it was the absence of my old rhyme partner in crime, or maybe it’s my massive mom brain. Either way, once I got started “limericking," I found myself getting stuck quite often. My solution? Minimize the Word window, get up from my desk to fill my coffee cup, go to the bathroom, come back and dick around on the Internet for a while and then try to squeeze out another rhyme or two. I started this process last Monday.
Now here we have it: a wholly untrue but completely plausible story in limerick format about a mom who is trying to get somewhere in her economy SUV, only to find herself stuck in the same place she started. And the weather fucking sucks.
I‘ll let you work out the big life metaphor on your own.
Here's a tale 'bout a mom from ‘sota.
She drives a four wheeled Toyota.
Her car? Sturdy and safe.
But her thighs? They're chafed.
Because it's eighteen degrees with fucking snow. Ahhhhhhh!
Yet onward and upward she must drive
‘Cause she works in town nine to five.
But first? Drop kids at schools.
(Being late’s against rules.)
She loads kids, turns key but...car dies.
“Oferfucksake” ‘sota mom said.
“Why can’t I just go back to bed?”
Soon the kids start crying,
The snot starts flying and
The eldest said his pants he would wet.
She called her dear husband on the phone
“Is it battery, engine or cold?”
“Beats me” she said and sighed.
“I’ll turn ‘round.” What a guy!
Still, she knew she should plan for a tow.
(Dear though her husband he was
His car skills never earned him applause.)
After looking inside
He sighed, “No clue. I’ll drive.”
And grabbed both the kids’ mittened paws.
“Thank god” the mom said and thought,
“Tell dad about pee pants?” She did not.
Instead she went inside
To warm up and hide
From the hot mess that had her distraught.
Then, as she approached the door frame
It hit her, “Could I be to blame? My dome light to ‘on’ turned
And through the night burned?
I’ll keep my mouth shut just the same.”
“Let the husband drive the kids to school.
I’ll work from home because WFH rules.
No one needs to know
That I fucked my car so.
I’ll just stay where I am, play it cool.”
So goodbye from cold Minnesota.
The weather sucks ass, doncha know, yeah?
This mom’s got no more time
For bustin’ out rhymes.
Who else needs a damn vodka soda?
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