I cannot say how long this has been so, but lately I have found that when I think,
my thoughts are in iambic—what’s the word? Pentameter; that’s it. And I am vexed
by all the sing-song thoughts that I must think because of this affliction most bizarre.
How can I keep blank verse out of my head? I’d be most grateful, readers of my blog, if you could help me end this nasty curse.
A coworker walked up to me as I stood in front of our office’s supply board, writing an order for yellow legal pads. She noticed that I was taking the time to copy the appropriate product number from the supply catalog, which, in theory, we are always supposed to do and, in practice, almost nobody ever does.
“Do you need a special kind of legal pad or something?” my coworker asked me.
“Well,” I told her, “if I don’t specify which ones to order, I find that we usually wind up getting white legal pads, or legal pads printed on really crummy paper.”
She stared at me for a moment before saying, “Sometimes it must be really hard to be you.”