Housework

My husband likes to vacuum
And he does it every day.
I’ve never really asked him why,
But I know what he’d say:

“If I don’t do it, who will?”
But he knows very well
There’d come a time when I’d be drawn
Under the vacuum’s spell.

But it would not be every day,
Perhaps just once a week;
For vacuuming does not provide
The soothing that I seek.

I do not like to clean at all
Unless I’m really bored;
And I’m aware my home won’t win
A housekeeping award.

But something in the vacuum’s roar
Or back and forth propulsion,
I guess is so appealing
It becomes like a compulsion.

You may assess the cluttered state
Of my abode with shrugs,
But never doubt the cleanliness
Of all the floors and rugs!