I wonder
Why’s it always me?
Or so it seems to be.
Whenever I go in
I never can begin
To do the things they do,
Until I’ve sourced anew
A fresh supply of white
So soft and fairy light,
Or buttered aloe vera
(The recipes get weirder).
It sometimes seems this way,
No matter what I say,
The cardboard inner tube
Sits languidly so nude,
Just waiting for my turn.
Will others never learn
They too can get the spare,
It’s in the cupboard there!
And as for the toothpaste tube…
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