-
- Everyday I'm older
- moving much, much slower,
- and as I grow in time,
- I think about this rhythm
-
- I use to mop on hands and
knees
- which now I cannot do
- 'cause getting to the floor,
- is like sticking me to glue.
-
- I use to vacuum everyday
- to keep the carpets nice
- Now, if I get the chance,
- each month, I vacuum twice.
-
- If ever I would see some dust,
- it almost drove me mad
- I've learned now to
cohabitate,
- and for this, I'm really glad.
-
- I changed the beds, I washed
the clothes,
- my windows were so shiny,
- but now I'd rather e-mail,
- and sit upon my hinny.
- I've tried to figure why I've
changed
- could it be my age,
- or is this just my change of
life
- morphing to another stage?
- I just don't care about the
dirt
- hiding in a deep, dark place.
- No one ever sees it
- so, to me, it's no disgrace.
- If things get somehow out of
place,
- or the den is just a mess,
- I count it all as taking
- my perfectionistic test.
- I just don't want to bother
- with usual household chores.
- I want to go out with my
friends,
- and never be a bore.
- Cleaning, dusting, mopping
- is such a waste of time
- especially as the days grow
near
- when God might ring my chime.
- Life is just too short, I
know,
- to waste a single minute.
- I can't be worried 'bout the
mess,
- instead, I'm living in it!
2009
