What’s A Girl To Do?

I really wish this guy would leave
He’s talking way too loud
Soon I’m thinking that I might
Just go and kick him out

I’m getting sick of hearing him
And looking at his face
He walks around with attitude
You’d think he owns the place

I’m working on a masterpiece
But all I get’s frustration
He keeps asking me questions and
It ruins concentration

A furrowed brow a curled up lip
A glow’ring evil glint
Oblivious it seems that he
Just doesn’t get the hint

And what more am I gonna do
It seems I’m at a loss
In instances like these what is it
you say to your boss?


Domestically Challenged

Tears of frustration filled my eyes
So home I went in tatters
And up to her soft bosom curled
Tell mama what’ the matter

I told her of food particles
That would not go away
White blankets that went in the wash
Emerge a dusky grey

Grilled cheese now forever stuck
Inside a frying pan
Wrinkled clothing that come out
Worse off than they began

Iron imprints, buttons melt
Mops dragged forth and back
My once was white linoleum
A deeper shade of black

And despite my best efforts still
The mold and mildew grows
You probably don’t even want
To ask me if I sew

Oh mother am I cursed? diseased?
Or am I just plain odd?
And so my mother fixed me with
A deep and knowing nod

Though I was 30 if a day
She sat me on her knee
And told me of the curse that runs
Deep in our ancestry

A handicap a deficit
A quite sad situation
A seeming lack of household skills
Passed on through generations

From dust on the log cabin walls
To sticky no wax floors
Unfortunate condition that
Appears to have no cure

It seems a lousy hand was dealt
I ask you where’s the fairness
Of this genetic defect which
I write to raise awareness

So as you come into my house
I ask you not to judge
The dirt that lingers on my fridge
The mirror that is smudged

Though no donations will be asked
Don’t say I did not warn ya
But if you truly want to help
The broom is in the corner


Kids Say The Darnedest Things!

I ask my kids a bunch of things,
Do cats have thoughts? Do fish have wings?
Do spirits live when bodies die?
All they say is, “I like pie.”

I ask my kids for their opinions,
Question their assignments given,
Ask them the who’s and where’s and why’s,
All they say is, “I like pie.”

All this drives me to frustration,
As I see this communication’s,
Just meant to drive me up a wall,
And they don’t like pie at all.