Six a.m., cook hubby's breakfast before work,
eggshells stuck to the counter, I want to go berserk,
our dog leaves a, "present* on the carpet,
lucky me slips in it,
got to put this sort of in rhyme,
before I lose my friggin' mind.
Is it me, or is housework a calamity ?
scrubbing toilets makes me joyless,
mopping kitchen floor, need I say anymore,
dishwasher decides to break down -
just for the hell of it,
vacuum cleaner sucks up socks and cereal, every bit,
the toaster sends the toast into orbit,
I need to sit !
can this housewife throw in the apron and quit ?!
Is it me, or is an immaculate home,
only on the cover of, "Good Housekeeping ?*
we'll, it's something to strive for -
in quite wishful dreaming !
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