My Boyfriend Says

My boyfriend says I’m far from normal.
Too fussy, fastidious, finicky and formal.
“I’ve always been tidy,” I sulk - sad face.
“A place for everything, everything in place.”

“It’s not right,” he berates, hands in the air.
“You plump up my cushion while I’m still in the chair.
You bathe the poor dog, pedicuring his paws
each time he spends just a minute outdoors.
You polish the door knocker every day,
and dust the lampshades till they fray.
You take nail scissors to the edge of the lawn
and polish the rose petals early dawn.
At silly o’clock you start the vacuum machine
then you take it apart and give it a clean.”

My boyfriend doesn’t appreciate my worth,
so I’ll teach him a lesson, on his turf.
The garage was tidy, thanks to me, very neat.
Now he’ll know mess. Hahaha. What a treat!
The hanging tool system, all layered and labelled
was first to be shattered, demolished, disabled.
His nails and screws tossed up like confetti,
yards of cable, all colours, tangled up like spaghetti.
Pieces of engines and projects in more bits than before.
Unused muscle builders chucked out the door.
A grand pile of junk on the floor in a heap.
Let him sort that out. He won’t get much sleep.

Will I make my point. Get the validation I seek?
Hmm. I think I’ll be single this time next week.