Stopping by the Blog on a Friday Evening

Whose life this is, I do not know.
Her house is in a village though.
Her kids take turns at falling ill.
Her car to the city, often goes.

My little car must think it queer
To stop without a Starbucks near.
Between my job and sports events
I haven’t time to shed a tear.

My husband gives me just a shake
To see if I am yet awake.
The only sound’s the loud alarm.
I think there must be some mistake.

I’ll stop before this gets too deep
Cause I have dirty floors to sweep
And loads to go before I sleep
And loads to go before I sleep.