Someday... a poem

Someday,

I will have a clean house.  

There won't be a fuzzy rainbow scarf draped over the bathroom floor next to a pair of purple and gold butterfly wings hanging from the drawer handle.

There won't be endless laundry that multiplies as soon as I turn my back.

There won't be a plasma car parked randomly in the middle of a walkway.

There won't be a partially assembled file cabinet in the middle of my bedroom floor amidst strewn packaging debris.

There won't be sounds of sibling bickering and tears floating in from the next room.

I won't be summarily summoned from whatever I'm doing to wipe.

There won't be wet towels left to languish in mildew on the bathroom floor next to muddy crocks and a not-quite-turned-off faucet.

The toothpaste won't (I SWEAR) loose it's cap the second it breaks the plane of our front door.

There won't be four light sabers littering the floor of kid #2's room with dinosaurs, a broken Millenium Falcon and umpteen legos waiting for my bare foot at 2 am.

Kid #1's room won't be newly organized with dolls lined up on a shelf and bed made.

(WAIT A SECOND!  WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN!)

I won't have gulped down two glasses of wine at dinner and then tried to sweep up the garage while stumbling over a month's worth of spilled dog food and my own feet before deciding this would make an interesting blog entry.

And I know, I just know, some part of me will be sad. 

But maybe well rested...

and sober.