Tag Archives: laundry

The Procrastination Song

Procrastination Song

Procrastination Song

Oh how difficult it can be sometimes
to do what I have to do.
When the most important things that day
are behind a big hurdle,
and I just can’t seem to jump it.

I must do my taxes,
I must write another 1000 words.
But my brain won’t focus
and flutters like a flock of birds.

Suddenly my path is filled
with a million other little things.
The laundry awaits,
the windows need cleaning.
I haven’t dusted the picture frames in ages
and menial tasks keep intervening.

The garden has to be ready for Spring,
I have to order carpet swatches.
And I recorded a cool show last night
that really needs watching.

I must do my taxes,
I must write another 1000 words.
But my brain won’t focus
and flutters like a flock of birds.

I give myself an imaginary slap.
Focus, now, snap out of it!
It’s like high school’s lack of toil,
when the night before the exam
you were burning the midnight oil.

I must do my taxes,
I must write another 1000 words.
But my brain won’t focus
and flutters like a flock of birds.

You’re a grown-up now, I tell myself,
face up to reality and your responsibility!
You know what’ll happen if you don’t do it on time.
The authorities will just bury you in hostility,
and you’ll regret not taking the 60 minutes
to finish off that compulsory business.

I take a deep breath
and force my feet to my folders and files.
This is it, I’m going to clear that big hurdle,
but not before the towels are in a perfect pile.

© Maggie Elizabeth, 2013


Domestic Bliss (An Ode to Mr. Mraz)

This is an ode from a housewife
as found all over the world
who swoons at your beautiful voice
and marvels at your de-frizzed curls.

Not a desperate one
with lots of bling and a nanny
but a slightly unkempt one
with too much hair on her fanny.

Who listens to you as she cleans up
the day’s beautiful mess
and attacks stubborn shit streaks
with the utmost finesse.

Who now leaves the car and
rides her bike to the recycling station
and has put her family
on a strict organic-only ration.

Who now bends herself
into an impossible pose
as she desperately tries
to touch her toes with her nose.

Oh Mr. Mraz, you’re like Jesus Christ
but with a Mal and a spliff
you preach love and light
as you shield me from the cliff.

Oh Mr. Mraz, you’re like Tom Jones
without the rasp and fake hue
and you make me want to throw
my daggy panties at you.

Oh Mr. Mraz, you’re like Fifty Shades
but a hundred times better
your words spank my tushy
with every single letter.

Your every note
strokes my bushy butterfly
as your voice carries me
to unprecedented highs.

Your music touches my heart
and kick-starts
a divine event
that can only end
in utter blissssss…

My cheeks flushed
I’m left in a quandary
but then I duly go back
to folding the laundry.

© Maggie Elizabeth, 2012