Lady MacDeath to Dirt

Out, damn’d dirt! Out, I say!

I entreat you, be gone from my hardwood floors this day

Swiffer in hand, I walk this abode all the hours long,

My heart a-full with dark song

Why must this grit persist?

We are not that kind of a home, I insist!

When I wake, I run the Roomba, and that’s not a moment too soon

At noon, comes the Dyson vacuum

The evening brings the Wet Jet

And yet and yet! This dirt remains set

Oh how I long for a clean, clean floor

Shining in the sun, greeting me as I walk through the door

I crave that smooth, silky feel beneath my feet,

No dust, no junk, no earthly particles do I want to meet

No crumbs, no scraps

No Lego pieces that go snap

No shriveled Cheerios

No nastiness from heaven knows

I want “House Beautiful” clean,

Scandinavian cosmopolitan clean,

Never-have -to-wash-your-gray-feet at night clean

Friends, do you know what I mean?

But this city air plus three little ones’ daily plunder and thunder

Continually tears my cleaning efforts asunder

‘Tis a losing battle I fight,

Yet I won’t be resigned to this plight

And so out damn’d dirt! Out, I say!

And I’ll Roomba, vacuum, mop, and Swiffer yet another day


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