And now, a poem entitled "Stopping Up Sinks on a Snowy Evening." I wrote it for the office kitchen area, but when I read it to Rob he stopped me after the first stanza and grumbled, "I was going to get to the dishes." Methinks he felt a tad guilty, what what. :)
Whose dish this is, I think I know
His butt’s not in the kitchen, though;
He will not see it fester here
Nor watch the grey-green fungi grow.
The dishwashing machine so near
Waits to feel some dirty-dish cheer.
Between the sink and microwave,
The loneliest machine of all.
Two side-steps is all it would take
For others’ sanity not to break.
If only into it we peep
And out of it clean dishes take.
The sink is noisome, dark and deep.
And we, too busy for its upkeep,
Yet it must be clean before we sleep,
Yet it must be clean before we sleep.
- by Tracy, who greatly admires Robert Frost and apologizes for trying to come up with a poem that includes dishwashers and microwaves.