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poem

POTS & PANS

My wife has cooked the food

Now I’m washing the pots

Every single piece of cutlery

And I mean lots and lots!

I wash, I dry

And still no end in sight

I’ll be knee deep in suds

Til the middle of the night

So spare a thought as you fall to sleep

Tucked up in your bed

For this poor fella, his hands all pruned

Wished he’d never been fed!

By Vinny

Middle aged geriatric from Hull, England.Slighty mad but aren't we all?

18 replies on “POTS & PANS”

Hey Vinny, I have a suggestion. It works for us. You set the table & put on the water & drinks while she cooks. Then you do the dishes together after enjoying a nice meal together. ✌️😘✌🏼

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