“Tomorow is my favorite day of the week.” He said, with a sparkle and a wink.
“Everything can be done in this miraculous, magical twenty four hours.”
I listened with curiosity.

“I can leave it all, save it all, assign more chores to the list…”
He beamed, knowingly, “You know that list, To Do TOMORROW.”
He sat back and lit his pipe.

I wanted to add something intelligent…“Bet your bottom dollar that tomorow there’ll be rain, and you can put it on tomorows’ Tomorow List,” I smiled.

But the night never came. The list got longer, the sun shaded down but never set.
The laundry piled to the ceiling, the dishes following suit… the gardens over grown to the door way.

Inside, you will find him buried alive in good intentions.