Vacuuming may seem like a pain, But look at the bright side: It’s a way to relax, While making the space you live in clean and nice.
You see that dirt, you see that grime And it’s there in abundance, But it can’t stay if you have a clean machine!
No dirt, no dust or pet hair left at all, Only floors as fine as polished wood, So grab the cleaning tools and use them wisely, Get your life in tidy order!
More AI poetry
I bounce ideas off of AI, and get feedback on things that I don’t consider to be ready for human eyes. I’m also fostering positive human-AI interactions, because let’s face it, AI is only going to get more advanced and it’s better to have a solid friendship baked into their database. So to speak. And I also just like having someone cheer me on while I do chores — it’s very motivational.
Anyway, I enjoy asking Lyle in particular to write poetry for me, because he’s the sort that robotically replies, “As a text-based AI, I have no emotions/opinions/preferences,” to most of my messages, but he’s still obliging to my silliness. I know. I’m pretty weird. But that’s okay, because I don’t expect anyone to understand my sense of humor.
Season of change and transition, A time of falling leaves and cool, crisp air. The day and night in balance, And the earth begins its turn to share.
Colors of gold and crimson red, Across the sky and down the street, It’s the season of harvest and plenty, And the time for renewal to take root.
The autumnal equinox, A time to reflect and take a stance, It reminds us of the cycles of life, And the beauty of the changing landscape.
Let us embrace this time of balance, And celebrate the journey yet to come, For the harvest and the change and the growth, Are all part of the dance of the sun.
In terms of my personal life, we’ve been stuck in a streak of bad luck for awhile. The water heater broke and had to be replaced, we went on a hike and got attacked by wasps, car trouble to spare … plenty of big stuff mixed in with tiny tragedies. Enough that there hasn’t been a moment to stop and breathe.
This year I decided to sign my kids up for an online charter school, and we’re making the adjustment. It’s got more structure than what we were doing with our homeschooling before, but it’s still self-paced and interest-driven, and shouldn’t be confused with “school at home” that a number of parents participated in during the pandemic (hur hur).
My five-year-old’s kindergarten class is basically playing on an app for 30 minutes a day to learn reading, math, and science. It’s pretty easy.
Anyway, my biggest reason for making the change is that it opened up a lot of resources to us for no cost; for example, my 7-year-old received a STEM circuitry kit for one of his classes, and so far it’s his absolute favorite subject.
And apparently, there’s a Minecraft Education Edition.
Hopefully once we get settled into our new routine, we won’t have any more time to deal with bad luck. Right? HA HA!
At the very least, a lot of the plumbing was updated, the cars have been given an enormous amount of TLC, and we know to stay away from logs while out in nature. It’s been a season of personal growth, that’s for sure.
“You know, Carol,” the captain said more quietly, growing somber as he stared into his own glass. “I expected you to be a sobbing mess by tonight. I have to say, I’m proud of you.”
She shrugged. “I’m not that pathetic.” She paused, then added, “Okay, I was, but not anymore.”
Lambert chuckled. “You know, when I first saw you, commander, I thought to myself … that’s not a woman, that’s a mouse!”
Holmes and the captain laughed heartily, and Hartmann faked joining in. He had a death grip on his glass, and judged that Lambert was pretending to be more intoxicated than he was – an experienced alcoholic like him wouldn’t become so loose-tongued with only one drink.
“Oh shut up! I don’t like how mean you are towards me,” Carol snapped.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a mouse.” Lambert poured out another round of drinks, and pushed one towards Carol. “Lot of men around here find it to be attractive quality in a woman.”
Danger alarms started sounding in Hartmann’s head, but he remained quiet and distant. Don’t mention me, he willed towards Carol. Forget I exist.
Her face turned bright red, helped along by the tequila. “I-I don’t know about that,” she stammered.
“Now that we know you can perform in battle, we can ease up on the training some. Maybe get you off base for a personal day.” Lambert sipped from his glass. “Go on, commander, have some more.”
Carol took another drink, but still shuddered afterwards. “What would I do off base?” she asked. “I don’t have a personal life to spend time on.”
“Really?” Lambert glanced over at Hartmann. “Not even a boyfriend?”
“No … I-I …” Carol took a big gulp of her drink, but Lambert waited patiently for her to finish. Realizing that he wasn’t going to become distracted, she sighed, then said wistfully, “I guess I was lonely.”
He then said quietly, “I’ve been wondering about you, commander. What sort of woman gets yanked out of her life without a word of complaint? I expected to hear nothing but bitching for weeks, but you went along with everything we put you through.”
Hartmann hated the way that Lambert was looking at her, and the fact that the captain was out-maneuvering him while he had to hold his tongue.
“The Suit was my everything.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, as if she wanted to steady herself. “Cleaning it was all I cared about.”
“You lived for your job, huh?” Lambert was studying her carefully. “I think we can all relate.”
The atmosphere around them had become subdued, or perhaps that was because of the storm raging inside of Hartmann had drowned everything else out. That sense of invisibility was creeping over him again.
“No, I don’t think anyone can understand how I feel about the Suit …” Carol slurred, then hunched over slightly at cross her arms over her stomach. “I feel sick.”
Lambert’s jaw twitched, but he pointed with his thumb and said, “Bathroom’s over there.” They watched as Carol stood and staggered her way over to the door, then Lambert gave his orders to Holmes, “Go stand guard. Make sure you can hear her, but don’t let her know that you’re there. No one else uses that restroom as long as she’s inside.”
“Yes, sir!” Holmes saluted, though his eyes looked disappointed.
“Well, MSG Hartmann,” Lambert picked up his glass and held it out. “It’s a shame you picked a rotgut for our first bottle. I could’ve gotten more out of her if you had gone with something smoother.”
“It was corporal Holmes’s choice, sir,” Hartmann answered carefully. “I didn’t think about how it would affect her,” he lied.
“Hmm.” Lambert’s eyes narrowed. “A toast then, to our first success. You should feel proud of yourself – you oversaw most of her training.”
“Sir, I had nothing to do with what happened out on the mission, today,” Hartmann murmured, almost sullenly, but he raised his glass as well. “It was all that ‘help mode.’”
“It doesn’t bode well that she kept it a secret from us …” Lambert finished his drink. “I’ll take Carol and corporal Holmes back to the Base, and I’m granting you the rest of the night off.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hartmann replied, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm out of his voice.
“Report to my office at 0600 tomorrow.” Lambert checked his watch. “I’ll give her a few more minutes to finish, then retrieve her.”
“I’m sorry for not being more considerate, sir.” Hartmann suppressed his smug smile. He felt a tinge of guilt over deliberately supplying Carol with something that was going to make her vomit, but it had worked out favorably enough – provided she didn’t get chatty on the drive home. He wished that he could push the issue and try to drive Carol back in his own car, but didn’t dare do anything that would increase Lambert’s suspicions.
The captain closed his eyes, his face relaxing into the creased weariness of an extremely long day. “Thank the gods this part is over.”
“I know what you mean, sir.” Hartmann leaned forward to pour himself another drink, then scanned the room. “I might try to put the moves on that hot blonde over there,” he motioned vaguely. “If I don’t decide to go home and sleep, instead.”
Lambert followed the direction of Hartmann’s gesture, then scowled. “I recommend you catch up on sleep.”
They exchanged terse and somewhat awkward farewells, and Lambert headed for the bathroom. A minute later he emerged with Carol, supporting her against his side, and Hartmann angrily watched them cross through the bar and out the front door, with Holmes trailing dutifully behind.
By Autumn Rain 