Things are starting to breakdown
They’ve started arguing
Turning against one another
The food still isn’t ready
And the bathroom is still occupied
Empty bellies and full bladders tend to make one less partial
And the kids are here now
The shouts and cries of toddlers are the soundtrack of my discontent
I’ve managed as best I can
But I fear my fight may be at its end
I’m losing strength
And my will to socialize is waning
I can only feign interest for so long
It may be time for the final resort
*phone rings*
“I’m on the way”
Roger that
Hotel. Uniform. Romeo. Romeo. Yankee.
Now, we wait.
A Blank Space 