Mrs. Teabody Deals with January Hell
January Hell Which maddened me more I cannot say The last button falling off my winter coat Or seeing the flattened tire at the start of my day As the winds blew hard and deadened my hope. At least I’d arrived at the office on time Hung my buttonless wrap on a corner tree My appointment was next, no waiting in line “Good Morning,” she said, “and please follow me.” “How did you manage to gain half a stone*?” Asked the querulous voice barely hiding her scorn. “The election,” I said in my pettiest tone; “My heartbeat’s erratic and riddled with thorn.” She penned my response on my chart in her hand And left me to stew in a small, airless room. I disrobed and donned the garb on the stand Sat down to consider my impending doom: Would the clog in my throat spell my untimely end? Was the spot on my cheek from some fatal cause? That cyst on my hand that just wouldn’t mend? That breathless anxiety that gave me such pause? He briskly arrived with my cha