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Wednesday, 18 November 2009

The Scullery Maid

By Ellen Younkins

An hour or more in the kitchen each night,
I measure and stir to make a delight.
When everything's done and so am I
I sit down to eat and say OH MY!

Wasn’t that good? I hope you liked it?
Then I serve the dessert and hope to sit.
But who’s left to clean up, It must be me.
The rest have all left to watch TV.

I cook and I clean and serve the meal
and it’s really not that much of a big deal.
Until it comes time to clean up all of the mess
and there I am - the scullery maid in distress.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


yup, that's me all right.
well said.
Though last night I came home from French class and my in laws heated up dinner for me, lit the candles, poured the wine and sat down with me.
Gosh. what a treat.

Well, Ellen, I used to have the same situation at my house until a very important decision was made and that was:

He who cooks does not clean up......

It really works. If Roy cooks, I clean up and when I cook he cleans up.. PERFECT!

Ellen - Nicely written.

I have always wondered who cleaned up after Julia Child.

Bon appetit! - Sandy

When my children got old enough I delegated the 'clean up' chore to them. The first two children grumbled, but did it. The third child asked me on the second night, "How come I have to do all the messy things like clean up and you do all the fun things like cooking?" I conceded her point because any idiot can fill the DW but she needed to learn how to cook. So we alternated nights. One night I cooked and she cleaned; the next night she cooked and I cleaned. We had a lot of hamburgers that winter. ;-)

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