I can be an obnoxious sort,
It’s more about having fun than anything.
I joke, cajole, and occasionally rip at someone’s heart,
But I don’t mean anything by it.

Like this one for my friends,
The alarm went off today,
I heard it, I acknowledged it, and I turned it off.
The covers got readjusted and back to sleep, I went.

They were better for waking,
Running, swimming, battling lifeguards,
I was lazy, weak, and proving to have little mettle,
But I was warm.

Sure, it’s tough this week,
Practice today, 10-12,
Then I’ll come home,
Lounge through lunch, nap in the afternoon.

That’s the price I pay for choosing teaching
Over sales, HR, and corporate fitness,
Three careers where spring breaks are not a thing,
But for the daycare issues, it creates.

I hope work goes well today,
This little jab was fun, maybe even obnoxious,
Please take it the right way,
See you tomorrow for seven…maybe…

orange cat sleeping on white bed
Photo by Aleksandar Cvetanović on Pexels.com

I’m calling, “Uncle,”
“Mercy,”
“Please let it end,”
Whatever it takes
To give me a bit of rest.

I’ve gotten to the point
Where the day is too full,
The nights not full enough,
And my desire for this pace
Waning at best.

Then, I think, “Just take a day,”
But back where the brown fat burns
The motivators are hissing, “Be uncommon,”
“Stick with it,”
“Pox.”

I hear them all
Knowing they mean something
As they drown out my voices
Of doubt and comfort
While the loudest, Tired, plays its game.

“Take a day,”
“You need the rest,”
“You can make it up,”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You’re too old.”

Mercy it must be out there somewhere,
A day off from waking, running, working, and coaching
Or maybe its time to double down and
Just keep going since
All things eventually pass.

The days off
Might just be the best.
Work can drag a man down
But thank goodness for Sundays and rest.

So why not go for a long run
Watch a bunch of football
Sneak in a nap or two
Then wait for nightfall.

And work tomorrow.

“Comedy is, for the most part, just an obsession with injustice.” Whitney Cummings

Long days, short nights
Working fitness angles, working all those hours
The lines start to appear
The bags get heavier
Then it all goes awry

A comment taken the wrong way
A look misinterpreted
Jokes marching over the line,
Missiles fly with interpersonal precision,
The hurt gets splattered all over an ego

Eyes go Lizzy, finding the weakest spot to chop
Hacking away with a non-verbal ax attack
That might have been avoided
With a little sleep, a little less screen time,
More peace and quiet.

The loft is dark, blinds drawn
The air holds a chill, outside of my blanket
I’m barely awake under the weight of a sleeping dog
Things could only be better
If the kids would appreciate silence…