Husband doing chores wearing his wife’s negligee

Extolling the virtues of a cynical disposition, he reclines
in his righteous dependency. Not for him the stoic indifference
of the TV judge, or the sheep like bleating from the
sporting spouse, each despised with equal smugness.

As it was or is, so shall it always be.

So they cancelled the old time dancing on account of
the weather, but Johnny Cash was playing on the radio,
which suits him fine. It’s his age though, he never used
to get these social malfunctions until they killed Saturday
night, and half buried the body so the memory would linger.

Rainy days and workdays always get me down.

His Father said as much during disagreeable lectures.
But he’s gone now, except for every morning when he
winks from the bathroom mirror. He knew all along
the old sod, but never gave the slightest warning of the
troubles to come, damn them all to hell.

The more things change the more they’ll stay the same, or not.

So he sighs, and tries to embrace what must come to pass.
But it’s all weird, political correctness gone rogue and hunted
down like a rabid bunny, what’s up doc! Now time coshes
with the blunt reminder of the tasks at hand, as he takes to
his chores wearing his wife’s negligee.