Where Grandma was Sleeping

That storm last night didn't affect me negatively at all. I don't mind having to wash my daughters sheets because our big, lovable, wuss of a Coon Hound climbed in bed with my mother when the thunder and lighting threatened to scare the hair off of him. And I thought it was rather fun plugging the blowdryer into an extension cord to melt the ice around my mother's sun roof so that it would close after being open all night -- through the rain, snow, and ice storm that scared the hair off the dog. Not a bad morning at all. Rather enjoyed myself actually; in fact, I'm thinking about making it into a children's book.

This is the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the dog who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the thunder

that scared the dog,

who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the ice storm

that brought the thunder

that scared the dog,

who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the sunroof that was open all night,

throughout the ice storm

that brought the thunder

that scared the dog, 

who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the ice which froze the sunroof

that was open all night,

throughout the ice storm,

that brought the thunder,

that scared the dog,

who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.

This is the blowdryer,

that melted the ice,

which froze the sunroof,

that was open all night,

throughout an ice storm,

which brought the thunder,

that scared the dog,

who shed his hair,

on the bed where Grandma was sleeping.