Picnic

It's still the same day as the last post and it is still a bummer of a day. Although it actually really shouldn't be... I just get in a bummed out mood when I think too much. I should probably think about that for a while, but that doesn't seem wise.

Did you hear the one about Descartes? He was in a bar, and the bartender asked, "Do you want another drink?", and Descartes said, "I think not.", and POOF - he disappeared!

They had a picnic here, with ribs and hot dogs that they cooked outside. I talked to this guy named Dan who works here as Assistant Activities Director, which is rather a thankless position. He has a band called Poor Man's Lobster. I listened to some of their music on the web, and I like them. Then I went out on the patio with a nice family who has a young woman with only one leg that lives here (I phrased that wrong! No, the other leg does not live in New Jersey!) Look, give me a break - if I don't amuse myself, then who will?

Anyway, here is another Christmas card poem:

This one refers to the fact that we had a one bedroom apartment, so I turned the dining room (off to the side of the kitchen) into my bedroom.

TO: AWAY IN A MANGER

Away in the kitchen,
The place for her bed,
The poor Debbie Taylor
Lays down her sweet head.
The garbage disposal
Upstairs grinds away,
And our icebox engine
Keeps running 'til day.

I love this apartment,
But I'd like to lay
Where nocturnal hamsters
Don't bang as they play.
Where coffee ain't brewin'
As dawn breaks the sky.
Maybe, oh maybe,
I'll sleep by and by.