is my deep depression done when I start to see the dirt

Or overwhelmed by thoughts of cleaning, getting worse.

Keyboard allows ignorance of dust bunny invasions

or arrival of things of the mold and mildew persuasion.

Telling myself stories about people in far-away lands

Keeps me from donning rubber gloves on my hands.

So when I wake up to the filth all around

I just put my head back under the ground.

Teary-ended, tormented, forlorn, and lost

I’d have a maid service, but for the cost.

But then she’d take one look, and utter screams

And, I’d be back to filth and the land of my dreams.

(c) Lorraine

image: Suzanne Proulx made from 2 1/2 years’ worth of household dust and lint.honestiblog.wordpress.com