Housekeeper, housekeeper when were you here, it’s only a month but feels like a year. With honor and glory I hand you respect- there are so many things I’d didn’t expect. With dust balls and clutter and schmutz on the floor I’m cutting through grease spots and so very much more. My hands are so brittle in spite of the gloves, my elbows left scratchy cause I’m scrubbing with love.
Through quarantined isolation I am down on my knees, when I get up it’s you I will please. The future’s a bit clearer, so now we can see, I’m heading back down to beg on my knees. Tomorrow we’ll change our once a week sheets, I can’t wait to hear you are just down the street. Lysol, and hand wipes and swifters galore. From now going forward it’s you I adore.
Saw it on Instagram. My sentiments exactly – this is torture!
Sent from Ann’s iPhone
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