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by Donna McElroy

 

First of all, organization was never one of Zella’s greatest features

She never stopped to think; she was a hurry-scurry creature

Referring to her lack of order as a sense of style

She used to say, “I never file, I always stack and pile!”

Well, guess you know what happened when she plugged in the fan

Stuff went flying everywhere, creating the mess that stuff can

The choice was clear; it stared at her directly in the face

She either had to clean this up of bear her own disgrace

For years she’d looked at cards and letters collecting dust,

A-waiting, for Zella to just get it done and quit procrastinating

“Today”, she’d say, “I’ll take this pile and put it over here!

Been sittin in this corner now for goin on two years…

Oh, there’s that number I needed back when we planned our trip!

And here’s my scarf all wadded up! And here’s my black half-slip!!

I must call Mika later and tell her that I found

That card she sent to me that time when I was feeling down.”

Zella couldn’t remember if she’d called Mika back;

“We haven’t talked in forever! I really have lost track!”

Now, Zella lived so long in such dishevelment and chaos,

We’d all become accustomed to whenever she’d delay us

We’d sit out in the taxi and watch the meter run

And be the last at everything, arriving ALL undone!

So we sat her down, and asked her

what was going through her mind

She said, “I don’t know what you mean!

You know it’s just my sign!”

We said, “What sign? HELP WANTED?

‘Cause, Girl, you are a mess!

We think you should be filing more

And piling a little less!

Look here, you can’t keep sliding in by the seat of your pants,

And we won’t play the victims of this stylish circumstance!”

Zee knew this was no ordinary meeting of her pack

This was that famous straw that broke the dromedary’s back

“Shape up, Ship out, sink or swim!”

She knew they meant no malice

You really could get started in this funky junky palace

They told her to prioritize, to plan, to persevere

They told her lots of painful things she didn’t want to hear

Sybil told he, “Pace yourself-don’t try to do it all,

Just take it one room at a time, and try not to drop the ball!”

Now Zella’s head was swimming with the passion of their pleading

So she made up her mind to change, and blessed their interceding

She took a legal pad, a fine-point pen, turned of the TV

And sank into her deepest chair. She was concerned, believe me

The more she tried to see beyond the scope of her demise

The more depressed she got, and after several weary sighs,

She squared her back and said,

“Things may not look so great right now,

But seeing is believing… I’ll make a change somehow

You’ll see! You come back in a month; I’ll have you all for dinner

Some shrimp, champagne and crumpets,

You’ll see, I’ll be a winner!”

She heard again what Sybil’d said, “Remember what I told you-

One project at a time-you’ve got a lot of change to go through!

So Zella took the plans for her soiree to a pro

Which left her time to straighten up her old domestic foe

And thinking of the most enjoyable thoughts that she could think of

The task began, and pretty soon she’d come right to the brink of

The strangest new sensation she’d never felt before

She’d swept and dusted, mopped up everything from door to door

A puzzling new feeling, so different, not a bad one

Except that in poor Zella’s cluttered life she’d never had one

If I could keep this place a little neater all the time,

I wouldn’t have to spend my hours digging through such grime!

When all the unimportant stuff was cleared and left for hauling

A wiped off mirror faced; she said, “Girl, you missed your calling!

In no time you have finished something that for years you dreaded,

And now you see with a new clear path

Exactly where you’re headed!”

So Zella learned her lesson, and as she disbursed the ale

To all her friends she made a toast

Which turned them all quite pale

“It seems”, she said, eyes gleaming,

“My whirlwind days are through,

And I owe the well-kempt woman I’ve become to friends like you!

To think, I mighta gone on for years with piles a-heaping

And never known, with all your help, the joy of good housekeeping!

Here, Here!!”

 

© 1984 Donna McElroy. All rights reserved.