Some practice yoga, some practice guilt

Maybe it’s because I’m Norwegian.

And was also raised a Lutheran.

That I’m now a guilt practitioner.

Though we never kneeled at church.

I like to practice weekly.

Thursdays are perfect.


So you can bet I woke up guilty.

For staying up too late.

Then forgetting to feed the cat.

And leaving the coffee on.

So I’d catch my big, old bus.

And not be tardy at work.

Though I’m sure I already was.

Where I spilled tea on someone’s toes.

Messing up her sweet new sandals.

Then noticing my shoes didn’t match.

Later missing 3 morning calls.

As I was already late for a lunch.

Where I ordered a huge club sandwich.

Feeling embarrassed while friends chose salads.

Then feeling dorky after downing my dessert.

And also very sleepy.

Later tripping out of a meeting.

While rushing to get back to the bus.

Almost forgetting my leftovers in the frig.

Which would also be my dinner.

As I forgot to buy some groceries.

But I missed my bus anyway.

And stood out in the rain.

Till my makeup ran down my cheeks.

Right on to those bills I didn’t mail.

That as usual were late.

So once home, I opened those leftovers.

But that box turned out not to be mine.

Belonging instead to another co-worker.

And I don’t quite know who.

But I’ll bet this worker wanted leftovers for dinner.

So I’m feeling extra guilty.

As I discovered I took someone’s tater tot casserole.

Which in the midwest is practically a sin!

Or at least some kind of crime.

So I should probably add Fridays to that guilt practice.