One terrible weekend when I was nine, I met a strange boy at the beach who walked up to me, said hello, and proceeded to make bad jokes. He was eleven, and today (a few years past eleven), he's our first house guest since we moved to the UK.
Sometimes old friends are the ones who make you the most anxious. I am just shattered I'm so tired. I haven't been sleeping -- because I've been cleaning the house in my dreams. Stupid, no? But that's the way my mind unhinges at times. And so, a bit of Shel Silverstein for me.
Whatif by Shel Silverstein
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
The rest of the poetry pals are over at Kelly's. Wishing y'all a blissfully peaceful completely unexceptional weekend of relaxation.