Eighteen

Eighteen, that was fast.
I found a book of haikus
while shopping today.

Seventeen

Painting for grandma.
Sunflower, her favorite.
Flashlight charger plug.

Sixteen

Three years and a day
ago. Same story, diff'rent
place. Interesting.

Fifteen

Lazy morning. Iced
Coffee. Polka dotted sheets.
Music on repeat.

Fourteen

Missed a class picnic.
Sad times, for sure. Thank you, work.
Party time tonight.

Thirteen

A cool breeze blows through

The patio door of life.

I suck at haikus.

Twelve

Constant exhaustion.
Extra work hours today.
Giant chin pimple.

Edited to add:

Spending 8 hours at my internship and then coming home and working 5 more is just not going to cut it. Like I said, constant exhaustion.

Eleven

Unbelievable
headache to end all headaches.
Hawaiian pizza.

Ten

Lemon-mint water.
Post-it notes are everywhere.
It is a problem.

Nine

Aqua Zumba, nope.
Lazy river? Why yes, please!
Excellent workout.

And because I am in the writing mood, an actual post! Hey, what do ya know?

Today is Monday, and Monday means Chili's, and Chili's means laughter, and laughter means my stomach hurts. In a good way. Not to sound like a broken record, but I love my Chili's girls.

Also, to the lady at CVS who was checking out in front of me: If you are going to talk on your phone in a relatively small store, you might want to try lowering your volume about eight notches. Additionally, talking on the phone while you are checking out is just plain rude. I get that sometimes there is an emergency and you HAVE to, or someone calls and you need to answer so you pick up to say, "hold on," but that was clearly not the case in this situation. Choosing not to give eye contact to the cashier who was very considerate to you is not acceptable. It's just not. Your conversation made it apparent that you have children, and I just want to say that I am glad they were not with you. I have no doubt that you have done similar things with them present, but I hope you know that they learn by watching you. You are teaching them to be rude and inconsiderate children and/or adolescents. And again, that is not acceptable.

Eight

Easter. Food coma.
Ridiculously long hair.
Beautiful weather.

Seven

Birthday, just not mine.
Vaccination argument.
I need a llama.

Six

Beautiful sandals.
Manicure, pedicure, squee!
Food. The Proposal.

Five

Radio presets.
Only took twenty-one months.
Apple juice book store.

Four

Breakfast. Blue sunny
Sky. Final supervision. Can't
believe it's over.

Day 3

Long day, fake, complaints,
Superficiality.
Mental exhaustion.

Day 2

Early morning rain,
school bus, one dead, tragedy.
Awful, dreary day.

Extraordinary

A month or so ago, I had this brilliant idea to write a haiku a day for an entire year. And then I got on Amazon and realized somebody beat me to it. It was a sad time. Why couldn't I do it too? Well, there is the fact that I suck at getting into new habits. At the beginning of the year, I was going to write down one good thing or one thing that stood out about each day and put them in a jar and then go through them on New Years Eve. I think I got through about half of February. Part of it was that I legitimately kept forgetting, and part of it was that there were a lot of days where nothing out of the ordinary happened and I was beginning to repeat the good things. Maybe that isn't the point, though. Most days are not going to have out of the ordinary events. Truthfully, I wouldn't want them to. It would be exhausting. It's sort of like how if you lived at the beach, you would stop appreciating it. If something extraordinary happened every day, it wouldn't be anything special, because you would grow to expect it. Perhaps a haiku a day is the same thing. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe it's my best idea ever, although somehow I don't think that is the case. I can't know unless I try, though, so here goes nothing?

Eighty-one degrees,
Spring? It is the south, I guess.
Fifty by Tuesday.

One hundred four minutes

Sometimes all it takes to make the family drama, work agony, sheer exhaustion, and the insanity of life fade away is one hundred four minutes.

One hundred four minutes at Chili's with the people in my life that "get it" more than anyone else. That are there for me day or night, up or down, no matter what.

Talking, eating, laughing, eating some more, drinking, laughing again.

Yep, I'll take one hundred four minutes any day.