There is something on my leg,
and I want it off.
I'm fumbling with the fasteners on my bag,
Trying to stuff in a geometry book that even when it is not in use still frustrates me.
There is still something on my leg.
Bed looks more inviting and tempting than ever, I shake my fist at it and shuffle away.
What is on my leg?
Standing at the front door, leaning against it with eyes half-closed,
I believe there are still splinters trapped in my mat of hair from when the brush snapped.
It died courageously in battle.
I know what was on my leg.
Now it is mauling the couch in a savage way.
A black piece of fuzz that's vibrating over the innocent sofa.
Typical kitten, he is our seventh cat.
No, we aren't crazy.

There is a definite problem with having geometry first thing in the morning.
My brains resemble expired cottage cheese.
I don't know what theorem 68 is ...

I'll find out later.
It's time for science; I'm going to do

an experiment.
Let's see what happens when I put my head on this desk and close my eyes.

12:45 - Experiment still in progress.

There is a ball coming toward my face.
I wonder if I have time to count the little dots on its surface before ...
Nope, no, I didn't have time.
Experiment is now officially over,

it was not successful.
Brains resemble cottage cheese

and now I have a matching face in purple.
Gym and Geometry, they have so much

in common.
They both start with "G" and they both teach lessons in pain.
Experiment is now officially over.

And I'm running.
Running.
Yep, still running.
I find it a bit unfair that the football team

often watches movies about football.
Somebody should make a movie about

cross-country.
Everything is more fun when you watch it

on screen.
Maybe it's the fact that somebody else

is doing the running.

Something is mauling my leg again.
Able to see it better now without blurry morning vision.
Looks like a dust bunny on steroids.
I pry it off with a spatula.
It decides that it's time to sneak up on the rocker in the living room.

I'm fighting a losing battle.
And my enemy is gloating about it.
I hate geometry.
It makes a sport out of taunting me.

Squash is orange.
That's all I have to say about it.
Mashed potatoes are potatoes

that are mashed.
That's all I have to say about them.
Ice cream cannot be described.
Except for its location, which is not at the dinner table. Darn.

Halfway across the country Megan Harkness is fretting over a U. S. history teacher.
It seems he complimented her on her attire, and she has jumped to conclusions.
"He's married!" she shrieks.
I pat her back over the instant messenger

service.
But cannot help but wonder if her

opinion would've changed
Had the teacher been Keanu Reeves.

I wake up in the middle of the night,
Certain that my geometry book was standing over me with a knife moments before.
A few minutes later my geometry book

is in the freezer.
I try to sleep despite frightening experience.

Most people would blame bad hearing on earphones and things of that nature.
I think they are wrong.
There's only one thing to blame for the world's hearing difficulties.
And it is right next to my head.
Would the alarm clock like to join

the geometry book?
It got off light.
Alarm clock is now visiting the wastebasket.
I can hear my mother wondering aloud about the book she found stashed next to the frozen peas.
There's something on my leg again.