Gleaming counters, tabletops,
Laundry hanging on the line,
Tidy rooms and vacuumed stairs,
This house must be a dream of mine.
A place for this, a place for that,
The books stand neatly on the shelf,
No dust, no stains, no toothpaste smears,
I want this house all to myself.
Because I know I’d keep it clean,
If only I lived in it,
But when it’s between “neat” and “kids,”
I know I just can’t win it.
So, sixteen years more (give or take)
I’ll have to grin and bear it –
But once the kids have flown the nest,
You bet your twigs I’ll clear it!
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