I finally got a whole day off of work!
If I squandered it all, I would feel like a jerk.
So I thought about all of the things I could do
To ascribe productivity-ness thereunto.
I can go to the bank, I can go to the store
I can finally tackle that long put-off chore
I’ve been saving until I’d a whole day off for—
That, and a whole whole whole whole whole lot more!
But…I stopped by the mailbox to pick up the mail,
And nothing was there—like defense lawyers jail.
I puzzled it out, but did not let it throw me;
Though I’m not from Missouri, ya still gotta show me.
I went to the store, but the hours were cut:
The lights were all off and the doors were all shut.
I thought, “This is strange,” but I figured the reason
Was as simple as, well…as “their stuff’s out of season.”
So I went to the doc’s, cuz I had a slight cough
That I knew he could fix—but the docs all had off.
Then I stopped by the bank just to cash a small check,
But…no tellers told me it was closed—what the heck?!
And likewise, the town, village, city, and state
Were all “Closed today, so you’ll just have to wait
Till tomorrow”—I ask you, does that not unnerve you?—
“Tomorrow” ’s the day that they promise to serve you!
I finally caught on that my day’s productivity
To fail to work out showed prodigious proclivity.
So I’ll sit here and wait till the work-a-day scene
Restarts itself up and gets back to routine.
Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out how
To accomplish the deeds that I failed to now—
I was able to do that day none, naught, nil, neither;
Cuz that’s the day no one else came to work, either.