642 things (not) to write about beginning with . . .

prompt: Write a stand-up comedy routine to address the United Nations

At 56 life is not funny. It’s ironic.  Don’t get me wrong, I have a sense of humor and love to laugh with the best of them.  In fact, I’ve been accused of not taking life seriously enough.  But, seriously folks . . . I thought I add that.  It’s a must in a comedy routine.

Here’s the deal, my life as a librarian on break is coming to an end.  Woo hoo ha ha ha ha.  I wish it were a joke.  Hey I just made myself laugh, how ironic. 

Now I’m wondering about the definition of ironic.  Hold on a sec, I can check that.  I’m a librarian and all.  Let me skip on over to my reference section.  I just made myself laugh again.   

From the New Oxford American Dictionary App:
ironic |īˈränik|
using or characterized by irony : his mouth curved into an ironic smile.
happening in the opposite way to what is expected, and typically causing wry amusement because of this.

There you have it, used perfectly.  I’m like that you know, words and me, we’re right on. Oh but I daren’t get very far away from my dictionary.  Articulating definitions make my brain freeze.  Yes, I just thank the good Lord for technology, everything can be at your fingertips. I love not having to move more than a fingertip while encouraging my ass to grow wider!  Insert laughter.  I’m sure my UN audience is in tears by now; mouths and lips strained from uproarious laughter.

I’d be a horrible stand up.  A. I can’t remember a joke to save my life and B. I do not like standing up in front of an audience. C. I’m mostly unintentionally funny D. other/insert whatever the F you want. 

Holy crap this exercise is not to my liking. I wish the damn timer slash hypothetical hook would go off slash appear, ripping slash hypothetically pulling me from this electronic page slash hypothetical stage.  Save me timer! 

Honestly, how do people keep words coming out of their finger tips?

Beep, beep, beep. Stop.

Praise Jesus!

P.S.  This exercise is dedicated to Esther Anne.  Thanks for the Christmas present Ess Bess!

Anticipation hesitation

I like being the first one up.  It’s the peacefulness I’m after, but the cats are the first to prod me out of bed.  Dewey takes me on around 4, bumping my head with his own then kneading my pillow relentlessly making sleep impossible.  Lately an all out brawl begins between both cats begins well before dawn breaks.  It’s too early to rise so I fling them off. Ultimately, it’s the return of Dewy and his incessant purring that pushes me out of bed somewhere before six.

The thought of going through my morning routine with a school day looming has begun to haunt me.  It’s only March but, in the back of my mind I’m making mental calculations of the time it will take to fit my current relaxed morning routine into the slot allowed.  In my fantasy it fits.  Frothy coffee, the cats, Moose, two bunnies, the fire, yoga, shower, fashion decisions, news, email and the obligatory peer at Facebook all squnched in before 7:15. In truth, these thoughts curdle the coffee I sip.

In life necessity requires that priorities be made. This list will need to be cut. 

Visions of coffee getting gulped and bunnies being ignored surface.  I know now that I'll skip the news and shorten my yoga routine.  I wince vividly reliving the escalation of my morning frantic-ness.  I can hear the clattering that my shoes make as I charge up and down the stairs retrieving any number of miscellaneous items crucial to surviving a day at school.  The daily dread will not be a dream but, my reality.

I can do this. I can't do this, duke it out in my head.