Messy Room
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
Poem by Shel Silverstein
Photo by me: Little Wanna's doll's house the morning after the tooth fairy visited and the toys had a party.
Oh boy, the housework involved with maintaining a family of five. For someone who likes things to be orderly, it is an endless task picking up, wiping up and putting away. Such a vast array of small bits are accumulated by three children and they invariably end up in extraordinary places far from where they ought to be. We don't quite have the space to disguise the clutter artfully. Hardly enough storage for the essentials. I'm yearning for a custom-built house with an abundance of cupboards and flat surfaces for work and play. Meantime the doll's house looks spookily like ours in miniature...and I'm starting to resemble the exhausted figure in pink slumped in the foreground.
