Nothing to write

There's little on my mind,
there's nothing to write.
I should probably let things be,
and call it a night.

Alas, strict "hot lutefisk" rules,
force me to type away,
Subjecting you, the poor reader,
to this drivel the next day.

I had no quirky interactions,
there's no Royals game tonight.
And I'd rather not write about my neighbor's lousy rapping,
which definitely is not "tight."

I'll leave you with this, dear reader,
my advice before I'm done:
If you ever get lost in the woods while soaked in bacon grease,
you probably ought ta run.