End of Year Feedback for my Husband
A whimsical letter at the end of 2021
Dear Husband,
Please, will you not leave the dishcloth in a wet lump, in a sloppy heap in the sink?
All manner of spills get flung in the sink:
tea dregs,
leftover soup,
rinse water after it has slid down a dirty plate.
Then I come to use it. I stare with disgust, disappointment,
and not an insignificant measure of resentment
at the sloppy offering at the bottom of the sink. I swear
it looks at me with a forlorn expression and shrugs its soggy shoulders.
'Why are you not rinsed clean and wrung out, waiting
as you hang on the edge of the bowl? Isn't that where I left you?'
I ask my cloth.
Its reticence saddens me.
So you see, dear husband, whom I love dearly,
this is a woeful story of neglect, thoughtlessness, and lack
of hygiene.
You are better than that.
So please,
please just rinse the fucking dishcloth
and hang it to air.
With love
Your devoted wife xxx
About the Creator
Teresa Renton
Inhaling life, exhaling stories, poetry, prose, flash or fusions. An imperfect perfectionist who writes and recycles words. I write because I love how it feels to make ink patterns & form words, like pictures, on a page.
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