I turned the heat on but I'm not ready for pumpkin lattes or using my oven. I'm not ready to start raking leafs into piles. I don't want to pair up a hundred socks fresh and warm out of the dryer. I can't pay a heat bill and I don't know what I want to be for Halloween. The recreational fires wafting from the backyards of the neighborhood are repugnant and I refuse to scrape the frost off my windshield. I don't care where my voter id card is. It's getting to dark too early. The wool sweater I pulled over my head yesterday made my neck itch and I scratched until I was irritated. Summer never quite got here this year. It popped it's head in for a few days. I said "Oh I'm so glad you are here, we were hoping to do some swimming." I welcomed and offered lemonade. I turned on the air conditioner but only for a few days and then summer was well on the way to the southern half on the planet when I desperately waved out the front door offering up my pale skin.
Sep 12, 2014
I Turned the Heat On
I turned the heat on but I'm not ready for pumpkin lattes or using my oven. I'm not ready to start raking leafs into piles. I don't want to pair up a hundred socks fresh and warm out of the dryer. I can't pay a heat bill and I don't know what I want to be for Halloween. The recreational fires wafting from the backyards of the neighborhood are repugnant and I refuse to scrape the frost off my windshield. I don't care where my voter id card is. It's getting to dark too early. The wool sweater I pulled over my head yesterday made my neck itch and I scratched until I was irritated. Summer never quite got here this year. It popped it's head in for a few days. I said "Oh I'm so glad you are here, we were hoping to do some swimming." I welcomed and offered lemonade. I turned on the air conditioner but only for a few days and then summer was well on the way to the southern half on the planet when I desperately waved out the front door offering up my pale skin.
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