Monday, February 12th, 2007...1:46 pm
Talk dirty — dirty pans, that is…..
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This poem is dedicated to the broiler pan, greasy, smelly and on the move, from oven to counter to stove to counter (but not to the sink).
I have a house.
I have a spouse.
My spouse likes to cook
But does not like to look.
He uses each pan
And spills since he can.
Not once does he clean
Which makes wife real mean.
This trail of a mess
Puts love in distress.
One day my big soap
Will hit the head of that dope!
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3 Comments
February 12th, 2007 at 5:01 pm
Have to say DH is a good sport. I don’t know if my DH would be so tolerant if I publicly celebrated his leaving for work; and the ease that brings me. Three blissful weeks without greasy breakfast dishes in the sink at dinner time, 3 to 4 times the laundry (yes for only one extra person), not knowing where anything is because as soon as it is out of his hands it is out of his memory forever. Okay, so I’m gloating. Sorry, but I’ll make it up to you with a movie afternoon that includes no kids or DHs. Just buttered popcorn washed down with a good red for dinner. My version of fruit and veggies.
February 13th, 2007 at 7:53 am
Sounds great!! Enjoy your space!
February 13th, 2007 at 8:47 am
LMAO.
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