A Stitch Too Late is My Fate, Ogden Nash
There are some people of whom I would certainly like to be one,
Who are the people who get things done.
They never forget to send their evening shirts to the
laundry and then when they need them can't find
anything but a lot of shirts without any starch,
And they always file their income tax return by the fourteenth of March.
They balance their checkbooks every month and their
figures always agree with the bank's,
And they are prompt in writing letters of condolence or thanks.
They never leave anything to chance,
But always make reservations in advance.
When they get out of bed they never neglect to don
slippers so they never pick up athlete's foot or a
cold or a splinter,
And they hang their clothes up on hangers every night
and put their winter clothes away every summer
and their summer clothes away every winter.
Before spending any money they insist on getting an estimate or a sample,
And if they lose anything from a shoelace to a diamond
ring it is covered by insurance more than ample.
They have budgets and what is more they live inside of them,
Even though it means eating things made of recipes
clipped from the Sunday paper that you'd think
they would have died of them.
They serve on committees
And improve their cities.
They are modern knight-errants
Who remember their godchildren's birthdays
and the anniversaries of their godchildren's parents,
And in cold weather they remember the birds
and supply them with sunflower seed and suet,
And whatever they decide to do, whether it's to
save twenty-five percent of their salary or learn Italian
or write a musical comedy or touch their toes a
hundred times every morning before breakfast,
why they go ahead and do it.
People who get things done lead contented lives,
or at least I guess so,
And I certainly wish that either I were more like them
or they were less so.
