A poem by Meg Sorick
Symmetry and straight lines,
All the light switches closed.
The knives pointed
In the same direction
The dishes must be white.
And there must be an even number.
Or a set with one in the middle
Just so, nothing less is acceptable
Take the spoon from the front
If you please, there’s no other way
To make sure they’re all used equally.
The shelves are not full.
I must fill the shelves.
Fold the clothes and stack
Keep the piles from tipping.
Balance is essential,
But neither temperance or sensibility.
This relentless striving for perfection
Pushes to the very edge of the abyss,
Where the only comfort is in a bottle.
Too much is out of my control.
I must control all that I can.
*Not autobiographical, header image artwork by me.
That would be a difficult way to live!
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I admit, I have my moments! Not this bad though! 😜
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I thought for a minute that you’d at last unpacked the whisky!
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Haha! And then nothing else got done!
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And control is all an illusion, of course.
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Indeed!
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Awesome poem and I love the painting too!
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Thanks so much!
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This encapsulates that compulsion so well, Meg!! I have my moments, too. I often find myself cleaning and organizing when I feel stressed.
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Thanks, Angela! I’m glad you can relate. With so much disorganization recently, I’ve been going a little crazy! Settling down though!
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I can imagine!! I’m glad you’re settling in. I imagine it will begin to feel more and more like home. 💜
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Yes, it really does!
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