Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not daughter, not spouse.
They both stared at the tube like two lumps on a log,
As I was sweating while scrubbing our messy little bog.
When all of a sudden I heard such a clatter,
I knew in an instant just what was the matter.
The glass Christmas balls hung on the branches with care,
had all come undone and were no longer there.
I whipped out the vacuum and sucked up the pieces
And along the way found last year’s Reese’s.
I thought to myself, “Are they too old to eat?”
“Ah, hell” I decided, and took a load off my feet.
My bathroom was gleaming all bedecked in red,
but I had so much more to do as I slunked off to bed.
Tomorrow was waiting to finish the rest.
There’s so much cleaning for one little nest.
The gifts needed wrapping, the cards, sitting there.
But where was Saint Nick, and did anyone care?
I made up my list as I shut off the lights, and wondered
Will it stay clean at least through the night?
A sparkling clean kitchen met my awaking,
What a sight to behold — my body was shaking!
But then I awoke from my midnight’s sweet dream
And went to the bathroom and wanted to scream.
The towels were draped all over the floor,
my bedecked bog was pretty no more.
I crawled back to be bed all annoyed and deflated
And hoped for a miracle. Alas, that was not fated.
I pulled up the covers and covered my head
And thought, “In the morning, I’ll deal with the dread.”
I whispered a prayer as I shut off the lights,
Not for Nuthin’, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
