If I had a routine, my house might be clean;
The fridge would be neat, full of good things to eat,
But that's not the reality that is me.
I leave things to chance, fly by the seat of my pants.
I won't let myself stress if my house is a mess.
On the couch I'll recline with my vodka and lime,
Watch a Celtics game, (I know the players by name),,
Glad though I didn't get wealth, I do have my health!
Life is to short to stress out a lot
About things that matter so little;
No need to slave all the way to your grave,
More important to savor each day's unique flavor!
An original poem by Eva Gallant
4 comments:
Good poem. Good advice. Have you managed to achieve this? I have a loooong way to go. It doesn't help that Mrs. C. Is a stress builder.
Totally on target!! Someone commented about how passionately I fight for certain things and my dear husband said he wished I had that kind of passion for a clean house. I told him to not hold his breath. Actually my house is clean, just not neat.
Love your blog - it's always good for a laugh - though I mostly just lurk. :)
We really ought to have had you judge our rap battle instead of Yung Skreezy. Cheers!
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