This thing that I do...

This thing that I do, this shop that I run, this spouse I work alongside, these pianos I buy, these customers I serve, these staff I hire, these movers I book, these tuners I send, these web pages I update, these emails I write, these phonecalls I make, these photos I take, these videos I edit, these posts I write, these leaflets I post, these traders I meet, this warehouse I rent, these bins I take out, these floors I sweep, these Roombas I empty, these supplies I order, this tax I pay, these loans I repay, day after day, in my own sweet way, I’m here to say, that it all feels like play, IT ALL FEELS LIKE PLAY, it feels so gay, not gay as in “heeeey”, but gay as in yay, like my work doesn’t weigh, too heavy on the brain, but this prose went astray, so before you away, there’s a pianoforté, a U30A, that arrived today, that I want to display, not giveaway, you should order today, and then pay, hurray!

Disclaimer: Many of those tasks should be “we” but I kept it as “I” to maintain the structure and rhythm of the stupid poem thing… and maybe, just maybe, to make it look like I work harder than I actually do. No doubt Julie will reply saying that she does it all, not me.