The Valley of the basement

Oh though I disappear down the valley of the basement steps, I hear the laundry calling, wash me, dry me, fold me.

 While up above me in the higher pastures of the house, the children lounge with their faces glued to the screen of the weekend cartoons.  In the kitchen the dishes seem to become dirty all by themselves, and disappear from the cabinet where they once were put away clean, to reappear everywhere no longer clean.

 Joyfully the baby runs around leaving an odorous trail of a smelly end which makes her easy to find.

I still cannot figure out how the house goes from clean to disaster while everyone is sitting still doing nothing.  And they all say I didnt do it.

How all of this happens I do not know, but I do know that even though the cycle goes on and on, I am ever so happy that I have this family and would not give it up for anything. 

 Possibly just for some time to mow the lawn and wash the car.

 

Michael E. Reid