A couple of years ago I was on a mission to get “The Clapper.” “Clap on, clap off,” you remember those commercials. The Clapper is a sound activated thing-y that turns lights on and off when you clap your hands. It can be hooked up to a TV or a lamp according to the commercials. It was big in the ’80s. I’ve never had one and I want one, but I don’t have one yet so…when I read at night in bed I use a flashlight because I don’t want to have to get up out of my wonderfully, comfortable bed once I am finished reading to turn off the overhead light. I don’t have lamps on my side tables and the light switch is sooo far.
So tonight I was done reading and decided to make shadow puppets on my ceiling. I am pretty good at this. I got skills. (Not really). I couldn’t hold the flashlight AND make shadow puppets though. I had to ask Tall Handsome Son to come into my room to hold the flashlight. Well, I am a bit bossy and I wanted the light just so. I had to take a deep breath and remember that this is all for fun. So what if my Doberman Pincer looks like a duck-giraffe. It’s OK, this is all for laughs. Sheesh.
And yes just for you, Dear Reader, another poem about the days First:
Someone is taking herself too seriously
Shadow puppetry is just a game
Waving her hands in the dark, furiously
So fucking lame