The Lament of the Unwashed Dishes
a poem, by Deb
Thanksgiving Day, a day of thanks and gratitude,
of turkey dinners and pumpkin pie,
of unbuttoned pants and family angst;
A day of love and honor and working together,
to enjoy a family meal.
As I walked into the kitchen my heart swelled
with affection and gratitude that you had done the dishes the day before.
No dirty dishes in the sink to hinder my creativity.
But alas -
alas.
Upon opening the dishwasher to remove a spoon it was discovered,
the horror.
You had not washed the dishes, you had piled them in the dishwasher.
Unrinsed.
You had not placed dishwasher soap in the soap bin.
You had not started the dishwasher.
The dishes. They were dirty with last night's spaghetti.
They were coated with your extra helping of Chef Boyardee Ravioli.
The truth. It was ugly.
Alas.
Another Thanksgiving Day.
The End.
I hope this poem inspires you to help with the dishes. :-)
2 comments:
LOL :-)
Happy Thanksgiving, Deb!
And to you Mr. Swain. :-)
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