Sunday

I'm going to be impractical today.

Drink beer with breakfast.

Drive to Manitou and sit for hours in a cemetery.

Pretend that speed limits are suggestions and fly through the places I know the cops sit.

Go to Goodwill and buy a dress I know I'll never wear, just because it makes me feel like a princess.

Take up smoking and tell the Surgeon General to shove his warning up his ass.

Leave the floors unwashed and the bathrooms dirty.

I'm not going to make my bed or clean the yard.

I'm going to play Barbies, so that I can create my own happy ending.

I won't eat anything green.

I think lunch is going to be a giant bowl of cookie dough and a bag of blue tortilla chips.

I'll take a long drive through the mountains, even if it's a waste of gas.

I'm going to wipe my nose on my sleeve, and let my lips chap in the wind.

I won't wear sunscreen; to hell with wrinkles.

And maybe tonight I'll go to bed without brushing my teeth, or washing my face.

I'll leave my dirty underwear on the floor,
and read a pointless book long into the night.