I’ve heard that tidying up
Creates some sort of magical joy.
That memo got lost in transit
To my soft-hearted medium boy.
The pile of stuffed pups alone
Would give the famous tidier fits.
But Mrs. Dog is here to stay
And so are her 99 kids.
They all have names and jobs,
Some hounds are secretly super.
The dust they put out when handled
Would leave Superman in a stupor.
This pile of friends doesn’t light up my life
When I’m stacking them on the bed.
I think I should just hug medium boy.
My joy seems to live there instead.
Everyone is on the tidying train it seems. I did it to my sock drawer. My sock drawer is pretty fabulous, I admit. This magical tidying does not affect any of the other creatures that I live with, however. It must be a very short range spell.