trudging across the bright

wooden tiles of her

suburban home, 

she gazes at the 

yellow streaks of 

paint pouring from the 

windows.

giddy for the 

beautiful day, she,

with her hair tied in

a big messy bun, 

walks towards the fridge.

pulling open the

cold metal handle,

a wicked smile

crosses her round face

she happily shoves 

the cold silver spoon

into the round bowl

of three layers of

Icecream

which quickly starts to

disappear from,

much unlike the stack

of papers that have

a bright-pink sticky note

she grudgingly wrote

down the day before:

To Do: Tomorrow