#reallife #notperfect

On a roll…

You know those days,
When everything is on a roll?
Everything works out,
And falls perfectly into place.

The bus stops,
At the moment you need it,
You don’t have to wait in the rain,
And all the seats are free,
You can sit anywhere you want.

When you are shopping for groceries,
And there is no waiting line,
At the registers,
You can walk right up,
And pay for what you need.

Or when you need a present,
For someone’s birthday,
And you find the perfect one,
Without looking,
It just falls into your lap,
And it’s just the right price.

Then you come home,
Everything is cleaned,
The kids are doing their homework,
Candles are lit,
And everything is just,
Perfect,
You loved this day,
You want more of them,
You want them all the time.

You know what I’m talking about?
No?
Me neither.

I had to wait for the bus,
In the flooding rain,
Gushing wind,
Turning me into a snowman,
My hair,
The shape of a drowned rat.

On the way back,
I could wave at 7 (!) trams,
That were all filled so badly,
That people were squished against the windows,
And the doors couldn’t close,
Unless somebody got off.

Finally home,
My dog chucked over a table,
That had burning candles on them,
Making me scratch my floor,
For about an hour,
To get the wax off,
Which wasn’t successful,
And is clearly visible,
By the green stain and minty smell,
That is pointing at me:
“Clean me!”,
“But it’s eleven o’clock…”,
In a deep voice: “I don’t caarre!”

Why is that perfect day,
Not an option?

Books,
TV shows,
And my husband,
Tell me I should be more positive,
But how can I be,
Look at what I described,
That was three hours of my life,
And I left out,
The spattering pan whilst making food,
The washing machine that keeps leaking,
Making my garage look like a cat peed in it,
For about a hundred times at once,
And my daughter’s sweater,
That got shrunk in the dryer.

Ow,
And did I tell you,
About my new, itching socks,
The sole of my shoe that comes out,
Every time I take them off,
So I’m left struggling to put it back,
For about ten minutes,
So my morning is a bit more smooth?

My toothbrush that was wet,
And clearly used before me,
By one of my other family members,
No idea who,
And my daughter,
Who thought it was a great idea,
To park her bike,
In our tiny hallway,
After riding trough the rain,
Coming home from school,
Leaving a puddle,
That made me slip,
Off course.

Should I go on,
Or is this getting too depressing?

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