There are many things that make me sad. Today, the washer didn't spin out all the water on a load of laundry. This makes me sad. I've spread the drippy mass on the back deck in the hopes the sun will dry them enough to put in the dryer.
It makes me sad that the number of hot dogs vs. hot dog buns sold in packages never match up. It makes me sad that there are no local coffee shops in this particular suburb. It makes me sad that I live in a suburb.
It makes me sad when Dylan repeatedly drops his toy mice in the toilet before bringing them to me so we can play. This is not only saddening, it is also gross. When I won't play with toilet mice, it makes Dylan sad. Some Sundays are sadness spirals.
An Erinku:
oh, for a baked
potato
odes, songs, plays
have been writ.
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