With Apologies to Dr. Suess

The sun sure did shine.
It was too hot to write.
I just couldn't get witty,
Try as I might.

I sat there with Pippin.
We sat there, we two.
And I said, "How I wish
We had something to do!"

Too humid for afghans,
Too hot to knit wool.
So we sat in the house
And I picked up a stole.


So all I could do was
Knit!
Knit!
Knit!
Knit!
With silk and with cotton
On socks or a mitt.

Something that floated,
Something that flapped,
Something that didn't
Heat up my lap.

I shut down the laptop
And took up my "Lil."
I knit a few rounds,
And that fit the bill.
Thing one and Thing two
Were nowhere in sight.
But my bad little monkey?
He put up a fight.

He went to the kitchen.
Crept over the floor.
And then my bad monkey?
He opened the door.

To the fridge. And he worked
His way to the top,
With a jump, and a wiggle,
And an odd little hop.

So there he sat,
Sweet as you please.
Atop the butter,
Alongside the cheese.



And did I remove him?
Not one little bit.
The day was too hot
For a monk's hissy fit.

I went to the thermostat.
(Made sure it was on.)
Then sat in my chair
And stifled a yawn.




Took up my knitting,
And, shaking my head,
Left my bad monkey
And picked up Big Red
It was too hot for wool,
Too hot for words.
Too hot for anything.
Least that's what I heard.

So I sat there and knit,
All that long, long, hot day.
Cause the heat was too much.
I had nothing to say.
Not that today
is going to be fine.
It's 80 degrees
and it's just half past nine.

So, if write I must
And be snarky too,
I'll have to be clever.
Know just what to do.

I won't worry my brain
Till my fillings come loose.
Instead I'll just steal borrow
From dear Dr. Suess




PS. The only word I could come up with to rhyme with scarf, is barf.

Heat must have fried the brain cells.