Today while everyone else is cultivating their sweet gratitude attitude,

I thought I’d allow myself a little latitude with a selfish magnitude.

Because I have oppositional syndrome, I’m celebrating in reversal.

So don’t take this as the final draft, when it might be just rehearsal.

It IS politically correct to complain on this day honoring poultry . . .

If you can disguise it in the rhymes of some pretty lame poetry.

So here goes — are you ready for all the things which I’m NOT thankful still exist?

This is the stuff I’ve dismissed, tried to resist, blacklist, or that just gets me pissed.

That last “P” word is one of them — someone just uttered it and my body cringed.

It’s worse than putting mushrooms in the stuffing — which also gets me unhinged.

That rubbery fungus is bad enough growing rampant on my front lawn,

But not as tragic as someone saying my blog always makes them yawn.

Are you getting the idea this verse is nothing more than all my pet peeves?

Housework, bills, lice, headaches, aging, screaming kids, rats, and thieves!

All plagues from which I wish I could get granted some lengthy reprieves.

But nothing holds a candle to what makes me feel the most defeated.

And that’s 85° weather in November and a house that’s overheated!

I live in a place where fall and winter have permanently retired,

And year-round scorching temps make air-conditioning required.

Sweating, dehydration, wrinkles, skin cancer — do we really need this much sun?

If you’re getting bored with my redundancy, relax cuz I think I’m almost done.

And so you must forgive my inconsiderate, ungrateful, lunatic rant and rave,

You’d feel justified too if burning weather melted your sanity into an early grave.

In fact today I needn’t even dirty a pot, turn on my stove, or open my oven door.

It’s so friggin’ hot, I can cook the whole Thanksgiving feast on my ever lovin’ floor!