by Charles Ray

Created on: August 09, 2009

The weekend has come at last.

Two days of perfect bliss

With beer and football games galore.

Who could ever want for more?

But hanging over this peaceful scene

Is a specter quite obscene.

Now, well you might be somewhat curious

At what would make me so furious

On this my only days of rest

When all all should be the very best.

My team is winning, I should be glad,

Instead I'm boiling, hopping mad.

For just as sure as death and taxes,

More bothersome than phone or faxes.

Just when I have settled down

A terrible messenger comes around.

A reminder from my past.

My wife with her 'honey-do' list.

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