When I’m feeling especially “busier than thou” I like to recall this poem to remind myself that I love doing almost everything I’m doing — you don’t get much luckier than that!
A Perfect Day
Grandmother on a Winter’s day
Milked the cows and fed them hay,
Slopped the hogs, saddled the mule,
And got the children off to school.
Did a washing, mopped the floors
Washed the windows , did some chores.
Cooked a dish of home-dried fruit
Pressed her husband’s Sunday suit.
Swept the parlor, made the bed
Baked a dozen loaves of bread.
Split some firewood and lugged it in
Enough to fill the kitchen bin.
Cleaned the lamps and put in oil
Stewed some apples she thought would spoil.
Churned the butter, baked a cake,
Then exclaimed “For Heaven’s sake!
The calves have got out of the pen!”
Went out and chased them in again.
Gathered the eggs and locked the stable
Back to the house and set the table.
Cooked a supper that was delicious,
And afterwards washed up all the dishes.
Fed the cat, and sprinkled some clothes
Mended a basket full of hose.
Then opened the organ, and began to play
” When You Come to the End of a Perfect Day”.
