Until I acquire an android washerwoman...

Until I acquire an android washerwoman...

which day will dawn
when the cows come home to roost
and among the animal house
will dwell owner of the menagerie
an old doddering historian
prone to express himself
with tearful sentimentality re: maudlin,
especially when inebriated
remembering the halcyon days of yore
as described in the quran
(the Islamic sacred book,
believed to be the word of God
as dictated to Muhammad
by the archangel Gabriel
and written down in Arabic
which yours truly forced to memorize
in addition to tending to drudgery
like poor Cinderella
by de facto default
since the wife won't
accept the assigned role
of laundress and flat out refused
to wash and dry clothes of mine
(though she willingly steeps coffee
and cooks me meals for her hubby, -
(who ofttimes he lived
within a different cubby)
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments)
thus two hampers
(for soiled clothes)
mostly dirty and musty
thrift store item relegated
to be cleaned after being worn
and a small closet jammed
(analogous to buttered peanuts)
packed up every
square inch of air space
with additional mountain
soiled clothes of hers
attests to how far behind
keeping up appearance
of house chores -
even used dishes
pile up in the refrigerator
(analogous to backed up traffic
on a major thoroughfare),
which get soaped up
and rinsed off
whenever the mood finds
her poised to strike
and block and tackle
laundry that ain't mine
and I can't go back
to the Harris house
formerly at Pooh's corner
before said domicile
got purchased by
(please don't quote me on this)
Donald Nelson
who sold the house
at what used to be the address
when Level Road
barely an animal train
videlicet R.D. #2
until my then soon to be
sixty eight year young papa -
Boyce Harris
purchased aforementioned property
on February 28th nineteen sixty eight
within what comprised
more than a half century ago
the vestiges of Glen Elm
(reduced from an initial spread
of one hundred acres of woodland
to a measly 2.42811 hectares)
initially own by the Leipers,
whose name appeared
housed within the National Register books,
which bound storied information
about the then upper echelon
of Philadelphia high society
purposely omitted top secret details
such as hidden passages
behind secret library walls,
disguised as bookshelves,
commonly called
hidden bookcase doors,
Murphy doors, or
simply sliding bookcases,
functioning as secret passages
or entries to hidden rooms,
with fake books
(some with whimsical titles)
often used as triggers or disguises.

While "bookcase door" descriptive,
specific designs
might be "Murphy doors"
(like a hidden swinging door)
or older architectural features
like "jib doors," noted
in places like the Grolier Club.

No sooner did I slave
lugging one hamper
to the nearest laundry room
(here at Highland Manor Apartments, -
which machines last used years ago
lucking out with an available washer,
whereby I stuffed door jamb packed
with musty laundry
on two separate occasions,
and dryer, which generated
a truckload of lint
of course yours truly
emptied the collector),
which nearly filled the trash can.