Drosophilosophy

I’ve figured out how come I’m old:
It’s all this cold-to-hot-to-cold!
See, Saturday was summery;
We woke up Sunday? Bummer: We
Apparently were now in autumn!
Then the mercury hit bottom
Shortly after noon, when ice
Completely filled my shoes. How nice.
When dinner bells began to ring,
However, Bam! We’re back in spring!
If dusk-to-dawn-to-dusk’s a year,
No wonder I’m decrepit, here!
When even dogs are saying, man,
You got old fast, I think we can
Agree that something’s screwy, right?
Oh, look! It’s summertime! Good-night.

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In Her Culture, It’s Probably A Compliment

The inside of my cat, I bet,
Is warm, and soft, and slightly wet.
At least that’s how I picture it,
Extrapolating from her spit.
I get a kinda glimpse in there
Through lenses steaming on the stair
Beneath my feet when first I wake.
Tuna ragout? That’s my mistake:
I thought my kitty was a foodie.
(Least she didn’t do a doody.)

Idiocy Accomplished

Ta! And on that topic: Da!
Plus, while we’re at it, Tra and La.
My CCKM Half-Athlon
Is done! (And my whole Sunday’s gone.)
I hope the sun agreed to shine
And warm your day; it cried on mine.
Although it makes a better tale,
I could have done without the hail,
But, all things being equal, Woo!
(In a related story, Hoo!)
I fell into an ego trap
And made it out! And now, a nap.

The Capital Cookie Kroc Monster Half-Athlon

I brought it on myself, I know.
I’ve chosen to embrace it, though.
It’s like a birthright, in a way,
Two races in a single day.
(Though only one is technically
A race, per se, that’s fine with me,
Since there’s no way to come up short
Competing in invented sport.)
The Monster Cookie ride I knew
Was Sunday, but the part I blew
Was thinking the half-marathon
Was on the day it isn’t on–
That’s Saturday–instead of when
It is: Sunday, of course. Again.
So, what to do? The entry fees
Have both been paid. Drop one? Oh, please,
‘Cause that’s the “smart decision,” right?
I won’t be wise without a fight.
In fact, I plan to triple down:
I’ll swim/run/bike all over town!
I’ll start at seven in the pool
And swim ’til eight, and then I’ll tool
On over to the run at nine.
Two hours, roughly, should be fine
To finish, grab some grub, then scoot
Back home. The Monster Cookie route
Begins and ends six blocks from where
I live, so I’ll just start from there
To ride the metric century.
Will I be by myself? We’ll see.
The course won’t close, they say, ’til four;
I’ll have four hours, maybe more,
To get through mile 62.
I think that’s doable, don’t you?
At any rate, I’ve made my bed,
But I’ll go out and play instead
Of using it ’til Sunday’s gone,
Eclipsed by my half-athlon!