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Some months back, I was working on a poem and looked over at the pile of unwashed dishes on the counter and this little poem wrote itself:
Who, oh who, will clean my house,
and when, oh when, will they do it?
Everyone knows it won’t be me,
’cause now I am a poet.
A Life in Poems 
The stuff of life Willow, the stuff of life. Great little number that says it all 🙂
Thanks!
You’re very welcome…
Best excuse ever! Love it, Willow, LOVE it
Thanks, John, now you’ve seen into the depths of my housework-hating soul 🙂
Haha I love this! I’m going to sing it around my house now!
The tune of Pop Goes the Weasel would work too 🙂
I think to the tune of ,”Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?” 😀
I hadn’t thought of singing it–great idea!
Yes ma’am, you are indeed a poet – and a fine one!
Time to call Merry Maids while you grace us with your lovely, lyrical thoughts.
Thanks for the compliments! And I did call, though they only come once a month–sadly, I can’t leave the dishes for that long 🙂
paper plates… just sayin’… 😀 😀
Love this! I laughed a lot!! So so true!! I had to learn the skill of leaving dishes in the sink! 🙂 My secret– rinse them off and stack them as neatly as you can and keep writing just a little longer. ❤