masterwordsmith-unplugged

There's dust on all the furniture; the garden's gone to seeds.

The hamper's full of dirty clothes; the lawn is growing weeds.

The clothes I wear are wrinkled, for an iron they haven't seen.

The vacuum cleaner sits unused; my house is far from clean.

We mostly live on take-out foods. I have no time to cook.

I'm not sure what remains undone, and I'm afraid to look.

What takes my time and energy? You ask in wonderment.

What causes fascination, and what makes my life content?

What do I feel compelled to check a dozen times a day?

What causes such delight I simply cannot stay away?

What keeps my phone line tied up, so a busy tone you get?

In case you haven't guessed by now -- I'm on the Internet.

My E-mail holds me spellbound, and an Addict I must be,

For I can't wait to find out what my Inbox holds for me.

So please forget the things you have in mind for me to do.

I'll maybe think about them when my E-mail tasks are through.