The Eve Before Christmas

‘Twas the Eve before Christmas, A Thursday this time.
The Netflix was chilling, with Frosty-ful rhyme.

The floors have been clean-ed, or so I am told,
And the laundry will one day, be ready to fold.

The Newton-Rath Younglings, from squirtly to Teen,
are louder than Motley, bare-chested and keen.

With Mom packed with peanuts, And I two drinks in,
It was finally looking like a big Christmas win.

When down in the basement, my mind did go wander,
To the exploits of earlier, memories not fonder.

You see, laundry machines, they don’t kick on their own.
They wait, just like pirates, Til’ everyone’s home.

So early we gathered, the girl and us boys,
to look upon washers, not washing – no joy.

From Canex to elsewhere, flew eldest and me,
to find a replacement swirl-swirly GE.

It’s sorted, we got one, so don’t fret a smidge.
It’s not like we had to go find a new fridge.

Smitty’s the man, at least in our neck,
We hauled it ourselves, but it was cheaper by heck.

So here we’re all sat, ’round the tube for a bite.
My lovelies are bigger, but all just as bright.

Our clothes will be laundered, Our hearts will be light,
So to all a Merry Christmas And to all A Good Night