I must be bonkers. My beloved is not yet home, but I am already thinking of the horrid things to come. To my own amazement, I am collecting stones for my sling.

Addendum (June 18, 2012)

I hasten to add that there is nothing metaphoric about the sling in this haiku. That is, it has nothing whatsoever to do with the sling in Matthew Treadwell fine article about my struggle against crooked golf in Motovun, Istria, and Croatia (“Abandon and Absolve,” August 22, 2010). Rather, it has to do with the real thing, which I acquired nearly three years ago (“Sling,” October 1, 2009). The stones I need for my practice ought to be as spherical as possible, so that they fly as straight as possible. Such stones are hard to find, it goes without saying. Pebbles are the best, but spherical pebbles are also quite rare. At any rate, my sling is not only a toy. It helps me release my anger, of which much has accumulated in Motovun during my struggle against crooked golf. This is where the metaphor comes into play, as well, albeit only tangentially.