Painting, Poems, Chinese Food and Spiders

Yesterday I helped Marty Kelly paint the entryway of his brother's house. It was the first time I've seen him paint. It was spectacular. It was this crazy abstract of a single yellow color around all the walls. Breathtaking. And by "helped" I mean sat and yaked and read him a poem about wasps. Then we listened to a song about a washing machine and I took it upon us to write a poem about a Tumble Dryer. It will follow below. Suddenly we realized the lateness of the hour and had to make a a dash to the chinese food take away. It was 10:15 at night and this chinese food place was hopping! But it was the only place you could get wine after 10 so we opted for that rather than the veg burgers and fries we were gonna make. So we chowed on chinese food and watch the Big Brother eviction. Big Brother here is a legend and it shows every night. Crazy. And finally the spider. So Marty Kelly is deathy afraid of spiders, and this morning when he was sweeping up he uncovered a rather large specimen. But with the help of my keen mind I set up a plan! The spider was hiding underneath the sofa in a room next to the now yellow entryway. I devised a plan wherein Marty stood on one of the seats in the living room and heaved the couch. I, holding the boom aloft, spotted the spider and swept it out the front door, and as per Marty's instructions, "as far away as I could get it". Phew. Close call.

And now - some classy poetry!!!!

Ode To A Tumble Dryer, With The Help Of Marty Kelly

Tumble Dryer you broke my heart
For years you spun my garments dry
One time I left you on too long and the heat was intense
I was chafed for days
And I cried silently with the washing machine
The toaster laughed and mocked me
English muffins never tasted the same again, not even with gooseberry jam
Especially with gooseberry jam
But now you lay cold and untumbling
There is something inside of you that I can’t fix
I cleaned out your lint trap
I changed the fuses
And still you remain silent, sullen
I called the repairman for help
But your parts are too old, unavailable
Tumble Dryer believe me I tried my hardest to fix you
Thank you for the years of toasty clothes
But the garbage truck is rumbling down the street
And it’s time
It’s time

Yeah, most of my poems are actually loads better than this, but in a strange way, I am rather fond of this one. I think it would probably work well as a country song.