An all too typical morning
It's another spuddle morning,
I struggle through the haze.
Late night writing, early rising
makes for bleary, dragging days.
With filter, grounds, and water ready,
I'm waiting for the pot,
but the switch that's never flipped
becomes the pot that's never hot.
Toast pops up black instead of brown,
who gave that dial a spin?
Then crunchy bites of scrambled egg,
a piece of shell fell in!
The coffee's finally dripping,
and so's the bathroom floor.
Kiddo used the shower stall,
but not the shower door.
My slipper socks are sopping now,
wet towels in the bin -
Mom, come quick, my kiddo calls,
the cat threw up again.
I finally pour some coffee,
add sugar with a sigh,
it's strong and dark without the milk
that hubby didn't buy.
The dogs are barking at the bus,
the kid can't find his shoes.
No time to pack a healthy lunch,
some chips will have to do.
From robocalls to urgent texts,
my spuddle day unfolds.
And when I get a moment's peace,
the frickin' coffee's cold!
Author's note: ▼