No eels is good eels

Swimming upstream all week against the eels and the executive orders. My eel anxiety is totally irrational. My executive order anxiety is sane and prudent.

The eels are not in my overalls. The lemon is not there either. I checked. I've been looking everywhere for the lemon. It is not in the fridge, freezer, pantry, or car trunk. It did not roll into the laundry closet.

Eric Clapton is singing, "I lost the lemon, but I did not buy the tartar sauce." My jaunt to Tom Thumb was specifically to buy tartar sauce for the tilapia, but then I was ambushed by a hoard of cookie-pushing Girl Scouts.

Winston and Julia did not have rodents down their overalls, nor Bounce dryer sheets. The rats were in a cage hooked to Winston's face.

And now back to the big closet cleanout.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

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