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The Night Before Clutter Class

'Twas the night before clutter class, and all thro’ the town

Not a pack rat was stirring or dejunking around;

The stuff all over was causing despair,

In hopes that St. Cleanup soon would be there;

The children were playing with toys scattered about

Their mess was endless without a doubt;

And ma in her curlers and pa in his cap

Had just settled their brains for a long evenings nap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

They sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.

Away to the window they flew like a flash,

Tripped on the toys and slipped on a stash;

The moon on the crest of the newly stacked paper,

Gave luster of midday to objects like the stapler. 

When what to their wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature maid ready to clear,

With a waste can and shredder tucked under her arm,

They knew in a moment she could do harm.

More rapid than a tornado her movements they came,

And she whistled and shouted and muttered, “This is insane!

Now trash this!  Now toss that!  I’m becoming a Vixen!

Out clutter!  Out junk!  Let’s really get blitzen!

To the top of the porch!  To the top of the wall

Now trash away, trash away, trash away, all!”

As piles of files before the cabinet lie,

When they meet with no system the mount to the sky,

So up to the desktop the coupons they flew,

With a bag full of newspapers and that tiny maid too.

And then in a twinkling, they heard from above

The sorting and tossing books that they’d loved.

As they twisted their head and both spun around,

Dow the clothes shute St. Cleanup fell with a bound.

She was trimmed up with bell bottoms from 1960,

And that old letter sweater that once was so nifty;

A bundle of shoes she had flung on her back,

And she looked like a salesman clearing the rack.

Her eyes – how they twinkled!  Her spirits – how scary!

Her arms full of trinkets, all the gadgets she could carry;

Her wrinkled neck was laden with cheap jewels,

Now those feeble excuses were no longer the rules,

The stump of a doo-dad she held tight in her teeth,

And old scarves and ties encircled her head like a wreath;

She had city tags and a rolling garbage dolly

That shook when she filled it full of man’s treasured folly,

She was lean and mean, a right dedicated gal;

And they laughed when they saw her, tho' she was no pal.

A wink of her eye and a twist of her wrist,

Soon gave them to know their junk wouldn’t be missed.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to the drawers

And emptied them all; then turned on all fours,

And grabbing broken parts left on the table,

And stacks of disposables some yet with a label.

She sprang to her car, to her driver gave a whistle,

And away they both flew, with the speed of a missile;

But they heard her exclaim as she blew out of sight;

“Happy De-junking to all, it’s time to get out of your plight!”

By Judy Warmington,

Woman Time Management

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