Welcome to my house
of extreme irritability
Dare to come in?
Shut the door
watch your step
there are eggshells
on the floor
Speak if you dare
(the cat will have your tongue)
and mind the web
the spider has made
you’ll easily fall in a trap
No need to be squeamish
come along
I’m sure I can find something
to offer you that isn’t offended
Avoid the sour grapes, though,
they see the worst in everything
(and looks can kill)
Come now,
I’m not such a dreadful bride
Am I? I even put on my wedding dress
to remind you how fun
it is to live with me
in my house of
extreme irritability
Play along for a little while
It’s all I ask.
Humor me.
No?
Smart man.
(I would have your head for that!)
illustration by Harry Clarke
Oh our sweet men, and what they put up with and accommodate. Our kitchen fairy doesn’t come til about 2 a.m. each night, cause I fall asleep in a food coma on the couch after dinner, then I get up to do some artwork or write, and before I tuck myself in I do the dishes. Tonight my sweet hubby came into the kitchen after waking up from the couch, getting ready to go to bed, and the kitchen fairy was doing her thing. He started to put away the coffee cups and plates I had set on the counter and I said to him, “Leave that, I’ll get it.” and he kept putting things away. I actually had to get rather firm in asking him to leave me to my kitchen and just go to bed – I knew he was tired and doesn’t have the leeway in schedule that I do, but he’s so sweet and wants to help. I was surprised at how firm I had to be to get him to leave it and go on to sleep. They just don’t understand.
Sometimes that kitchen time alone is good time….
Haha! I myself am known as a “kitchen nazi.” My darling is trying very hard to become a sous chef in our small kitchen, and as much as I appreciate his helpfulness, he doesn’t share my urgency around fire!
Ah the dances we do in our shared spaces….