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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #974126 added January 24, 2020 at 11:02pm
Restrictions: None
Frustrated, tiny though it may be...
Prompt: Is there something that has frustrated you recently? Talk about it.
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Nothing frustrates me like my own self when I forget to do scheduled things or messing up while doing anything. It is true that I have a lot on my plate, and moreover, I keep adding to it. Sometimes, while doing all that, I mix up stuff and that is terribly frustrating.
Things I write down and take care of through my computer I am not too bad at, but the other chores, especially having to do with housekeeping get me down. For example, I make brewed tea in the mornings. I have two teapots that fit into each other. The top ceramic one is for the brewing a very strong tea, and the bottom one is for the hot water to dilute it while pouring into the cups. Since I use distilled water, I don’t want to waste it.
This morning, while adding tea leaves to the brewing pot, I put them inside the wrong pot, which is the one that holds the hot water. It was so annoying. And not only for the waste of water either. Tea has a way of sticking to and coloring the insides of the metal pots. The brewing pot is ceramic, so it doesn’t matter.
Of course, I poured out the water from the metal pot, scrubbed it, and in the meantime, burned my finger because the pot was so hot. Then, I boiled more water in it.
Also, today, in the morning, I forgot the laundry in the washer. Later in the afternoon, I forgot to take the clothes out of the dryer. I hate to leave wet wash in the washer and to not take the dried clothes out as soon as possible. Maybe it is old age, but I keep getting annoyed at myself with such stuff, all the time.
Come to think of it, what I just wrote down sounds like slapstick comedy! 
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