It's Monday and I am coming out of a long weekend of watching children and making sure they are entertained in addition to driving all over what seems to be creation (in my diminished scope) to make good on a promise to play an integral role in a Christmas Pageant I would otherwise have nothing to do with. I am tired. And so, it is unfortunate but....
I have nothing witty, nothing jocose, nothing waggish or droll, nothing whimsical, gleeful or frolicsome to share. The reasons being I do not frolic, frisk, or caper. I do not lark or romp or prance. I do not locomote in any way comparable to that of a sprite or fairy or brownie, elf or elfin. I am stuffy. I am prosaic, plebeian and platitudinous. I am humdrum and hackneyed, unable to elicit emotions evoking smiles from faces. I am a vacuous vat of picayune pansophism who can't even qualify for a spot on a stupid game show.
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