THE CONFESSIONS OF THE WORLD'S WORST HOUSEWIFE

Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

I’m the world’s worst housewife, this I’m confessing The state of this place is more than depressing When I try to tidy I just add to the cess pool of messing If you did a white glove test, a foot of grime you’d be caressing Visitors gasp, drop their jaws and then their gag reflexes require suppressing No, really, it’s so bad that our parish priest refused to do a house blessing Even a snake in the grass with itchy, loose skin would fear undressing Every dish in my kitchen sink soaks in slimy misery, like it is convalescing Clutter increases and my teeny floor space continues regressing There is so much hair in the grey tub you could make a wig with clumps of tress-ing And my bathwater holds mysteries so deep that a Scot would say I am Loch Ness-ing Something in my fridge has been there for so long that its now phosphoresc-ing And that carton of milk? Ew, its contents need no second guessing My family stoops to avoid cobwebs so thick that each droop is oppressing The dust on shelves grows like the love for me that the fluff is now daily professing But that crud in the corner that is starting to smell? I admit, it needs addressing My looking glass is so crusty that all I can see is Alice and those queens a-chess-ing The laundry weighs so much that our concrete floor has started compressing But, frankly, my husband likes it that I’m wearing somewhat less and less-ing I’ve tried to ignore that bag over there, but it’s seeping puss and might be abscessing Once upon a time I answered phones, organized chaos and did word processing Now I’m mom to a girl who gets most of my attention and its she that I’m princess-ing Some of you may think I’m just idleless-ing But we spend most of our days playing, our affection expressing Her sweetness blossoms, though her temperament needs a wee bit of finessing Oh, but she’s cute and funny! How my darling, the world is impressing And at night when she’s asleep- instead of dusting- I prefer letter pressing Does it really matter that my home isn't a palace of some ancienne noblesse-ing? And in MHO an immaculate house is just silly window dressing So come on over, my friends, believe me, my place is in no way stressing In fact, laughter floats in my muddle like bubbles effervesce-ing We dance all day long with dust motes ~ my definition of joy and true success-ing.