I hate clutter,
Filth, and disarray
In fact, I’m a neat-nick
My hubby would say

But when it comes to tidiness
My standard is double
My house might be spotless
But my car’s full of rubble

The poor thing gets washed
Once a year if it’s lucky
And the inside is worse
In a word, downright mucky

When I can’t find the pedals
I gather the trash
But more often than that
Would be rather rash

My houseguests will find
Everything in its place
But in my car their feet
Will fight trash for some space.

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