Today I am would like to discuss arduous tasks (one in particular).
Sometimes I feel an element of peer pressure to conform to a certain standard of 'muminess'. I'm not sure where exactly where my quantification of mummy perfection comes from but it's there, rears it's critical head every now again and needs a good quashing!
I put on a creased top the other day and found my mind wandering....wondering what people would think if I go out looking like a wandering wayfarer?...What does my appearance portray to the immaculate materfamilias of this world (or rather just the general local community)?
I then had a word with myself and thought, 'who gives a +#!' and wrote this poem...
My clothes are creased,
I do not care!
It's just so boring standing there,
With iron in hand,
Pressing pants!?
While life pursues It's merry dance.
Whilst you press lines down 'darlings' trousers,
Smooth bed sheets, steam your linen blouses,
Amusement winks it's lofty eye,
Fun is idly passing by!
Though I admire all who bear this tedious creation,
I have no care for ironing stuff
I choose emancipation!
'Perfect' mummies everywhere, pass your judgement,
Mock and stare,
My clothes are creased?...
.....I DO NOT CARE!
I also don't give a rat's rear end about:
Shoe shining, skirting board cleaning, blind dusting (dusting those things that cover windows, I don't blindfold myself and dust), starching bed sheets, polishing cutlery and all other tedious and somewhat unnecessary household tasks.
Please feel free to express your distaste (and simultaneously appease my feelings of self-condemnation) for any arduous household task below.