I wrote this "couch potato wannabe poem" in 2000 when the world was a blur... I saw hundreds of people each day, and my house and life was jammed packed with the activities of the four of us. 10 years later, and this need for the comfort of home by yourself is my way of life now. But, I confess, I loved both....

Comfort in Your Own Company…



Your socks don’t match
And it’s surprising you have socks on !
They’re both “whitish” but one is longer
Than the other.
(One must be your husband’s, the other yours).

You’ve a half dozen phone calls to return
But the epilogue of the current novel
Looks to be a scant 40-50 pages
From where your finger holds your place.
(It would be a sin to stop reading now).

There are bills to pay,
Laundry in baskets,
And you’ve run out of toothpaste
In both bathrooms.
(But the grocery store means clothes, and you’re in pajamas).

Difficult to successfully rummage
In fridge or cupboard
For “single person” food
When you are accustomed to cooking for four.
(Hard to believe the thousands of meals you’ve made).

You can have either quick
Or wholesome food. Not much to choose.
Maybe you can also have delicious,
The kind you eat stealthily when others are home.
(Junk food tastes better with stealth).

Book finished, you can catch up on
Your email, do the research for the article
You’ve promised.
Or you can read pearls and order used books from the web.
(It’s no contest).

Hurry, hurry!
Do exactly as you please.
Enjoy your comfort
In your own company.
They’ll be home soon…