Author: maiamom

I do not like to clean the house.

I do not like to do it.

I clean and clean and clean some more.

And never do get through it.

Sooth and comfort through the night.

Wake me with the morning light.

Guide my steps along the way.

Shelter me at close of day.

Daphne is the oldest one.

Still, the one most like a kitten.

She never met man, woman, or child

with whom she was not smitten.

She bats her head, weaves round

one’s ankle, and lifts a tentative paw.

And any cold heart who comes her way

always feels a little thaw.

The weather report said:  Wacky.

And, I guess I would agree.

It’s raw and quite unpleasant

to a remarkable degree.

It’s just Seattle weather—

with cold and gloom and rain.

It’s just Seattle weather.

It’s Winter Time again.

There’s a musty smell that makes me curious.

It’s definitely not a smell injurious,

but something clearly needs attention.

It must need Cleaning Intervention!

There’s not a single thing I feel I want to wear.

There’s not a single thing that I can do about my hair.

But, this is not a whine and not a wimpy note of woe.

There’s also not a single place I want to go.

My cats are mewing plaintively.

They’re casting sorrowful eyes at me.

They must want an evening picker-upper.

It’s just been an hour since they had their supper.