It was a dismal morning. A slow, steady rain was falling, and Laetitia held a raised umbrella as she walked down Raglan Road toward the Emerald Victorian, clad in a raincoat and boots. Although some might find such a day depressing, Laetitia didn’t, because it was her almost day off. It had been about thirty days since she had had her last break from leading a tour, so she was due for another one. She still had to post a limerick, but she didn’t need to lead a tour. She ascended the front steps onto the porch, shook the water off her umbrella, unlocked the big front door, and went inside.
A bit later, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, she walked around the library, scanning the book titles as she tried to think of the day’s limerick. There was something comforting about being surrounded by books on a rainy day. Laetitia was tempted to browse the collection until she found a book she liked and then spend the day reading it, but she had to write a limerick first. Then it occurred to her that she ought to check her email.
When she did, she found no emails from Mind’s Eye headquarters—wherever that was—but there was one from her grandmother who was traveling in Australia with “the girls,” as she called her circle of friends her own age. The email read, “We’re having a great time and wish you were here. I know you’re not leading a tour today, but you still have to post a limerick, so I took the liberty of writing one for you.” Laetitia smiled, posted the limerick to the Mind’s Eye website, poured another cup of coffee, pulled out a book, settled into an overstuffed chair, and began to read.
Yank ladies, it’s time to regale ya
‘Bout manners of speech in Australia
Where skivvies ain’t underwear
But turtlenecks, and be aware
Your fannies are your genitalia.