MOUNTING PILES OF IRONING

Once a week we wash and dry clothes, inside or out,
Sometimes the ironing is done the very same day,
White shirts and table clothes away, I do not pout,
Everything all tidy and I think it should be that way.

But sometimes things pile up with too much to do,
And the ironing is one of the things forgotten by me,
The thought being, one tablecloth and shirts just a few,
Double can be done next week, and I sigh with glee.

Next week comes and now the shirt rack is quite full,
I’ll have to do the ironing or he’ll have no shirts to wear,
So I set too with a will and complete this job so dull,
And promise that next week it will be done, then and there.

Yet once again I procrastinate and the work piles high,
Leaving the ironing for more than one week, silly me,
This week is the same I can see them hanging and I sigh.
Oh, why did I do it again, and now have double misery.

Now I’m off to do the ironing before another week
Makes the pile even bigger, oh what a horrid thought,
Looking now out of the corner of my eye makes me weak,
My mother was right, Do it now I was always taught.

M Ann Margetson © November 14, 2000
2000/987Ironing
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