In Which A Simple Chore Makes Me Question My Sanity Every Time

An open suitcase sits upon my bed,

All items from my list are in there, and

Some extra things, besides. But in my head

My packing's incomplete. You understand,

You list-makers, who start long weeks before

A trip, and check the damned thing ev'ry day,

Who scribble things out, then add a few more,

Quite certain aught's forgotten. There's no way

A perfect packing job has been achieved,

Not ever in my lifetime, this I know!

I start too soon and second guess me, grieved

To think of being without something. I'll go

O'er these two lists once more before I sleep,

But dream of errors; wake up early. Meep!

In Which I Get Excited Over A Tournament Draw

No sports fan am I, save for this one round

Of football games that make of me a nut:

The FIFA World Cup. No way I have found

Has ever kept me out of this one rut.

'Tis only ev'ry four years this occurs,

When I become a lunatic. Today

Preliminary groups were drawn, which spurs

My craziness. England v. USA?

The Germans and the Aussies? Oh my head

Already spins. Brazil and Portugal

Are in a group together, "of the dead"

And though Croatia won't be at the ball

I still feel now the ghost of my old craze.

One hundred eighty seven more short days!