Every morning for the past week I haven't wanted to get up. I've just wanted to stay in bed until the day my grandson wins the golden ticket and I get to go to chocolate factory and meet Willy Wonka. And let's be clear: I do not have a grandson.
Honestly life has just felt like one bad country-western song lyric after the other playing in a loop that goes something like this:
Heat waves risin', coyotes yippin' and howlin' on the street.
Well, the pool split open, water raced like a thrill,
Took a minute to hear "it's stage one, gonna be fine, hun."
Heat waves risin', coyotes yippin' and howlin' on the street.
Now folks, I set out to write a country-western song.
It's got sickness, death, a dog, coyote, skunk,
a busted pool, shredded underwear, and a bear that slunk.
This song may have hit country-western ascension.