You can't help it, can you?
The need for control, the need for order
somehow it's genetically programmed into you
You look at me and know
I have half your genes
how can it be that I am so disgustingly
disordered?
I feel your pain come off in waves
the curses in Japanese start
I shrug
it's MY house now
not yours
and I will do what I want
I love my piles of
clothes, books
bills, food, mess in general
I know what's there
and it comforts me
Can't you just be happy
I'm clean
and just accept
I'm
just cluttered
I promise
there's nothing dead under there!
You look around
helplessly touch
I glare
"Don't!"
You beg, "Organize, please!"
I laugh
and you leave
offended
I still love you, mommy
Stop conditionally
loving me!
Ah..I just cleaned my daughter's flat..but she appreciated it...some mum's just can't let go...did you show her the poem? Second thoughts....perhaps not
ReplyDeleteI always appreciate the help. Just not the contempt.
ReplyDelete