On The Bad Days
On the good days
I am perfect and perfectly happy
In my domesticated existence
Married with children
A home and job and car of my own
And my husband can satisfy me
And my children please me
And nothing makes me quite as happy
As hot chocolate
And a Cary Grant movie marathon
On my couch
With my cat in my lap
And my man on my side.
On the good days
The love of my life
And my husband
Are one and the same
And I curl up and tell him about my day
And listen to him about his.
We have it all
The picket fence
The cats
The kids
And I couldn't want anything more.
But on the bad days
When there is an air of pregnant silence
Surrounding us after a fight
Or lingering from an unresolved issue
Abandoned three days and fourteen conversations ago
And I think about what might happen if you died
I wouldn't kill you
But if something should happen accidentally
I wonder if life might be easier for me
I love these kids
But I wonder why they were ever born
But only on the bad days
On the bad days
When I have had one drink too many
Or three less than I need
I'll suddenly blurt out
All of the things
Be they petty or all-important
That annoy the shit out of me
About you
And I tell you you're not good at fucking
Even though that's only
Maybe true
Forty per cent of the time.
And I tell you we were married too young
Even though we weren't
But damn, it just seems sometimes
Like I missed out
On a shit ton of things
I should have done
Before I settled down
On the bad days
I cut all of my hair off
Because I am pissed at you
And have a hard time putting it into words
And I blame it on gum in my hair
Or I say a friend cut it for me
And did a shit job
But that's not true
And I'm pretty sure you know that
On the bad days
I am half the woman I ought to be
Or else I have taken on the work
Of twice as many as I am
And I can't sleep
And I eat too much
And I blame the kids for making me fat
I cry, and when you ask me why
I want to blow your brains out
For not already knowing
But how could you
I mean, after all,
You're only my husband
The love of my life
My better half
Right?
On the bad days
When I think church will help
And singing about Jesus
Will clear my head
I can't even concentrate
Because a tall, dark figure
Has crept his way into my head
My heart
And I keep hoping
Maybe someday
Into my bed
And he's up there talking about God
And I'm down there thinking
About if he's any good at fucking
How big his cock might be
And if he ever got a blow job in his life
Or at least one worth talking about
On the bad days
I am fantasizing
About getting licked by a man
Who has half the Bible memorized
Who has a sense of humor
Who is probably three times the man
That my man is
And I look over at the wife
Who has everything
And I love her and I hate her
At the same time
And I wish her well
But I also wish
Her husband would grab my tits
When we pass each other in the hall.
But back to the good days
Those are the days I absolutely know
You are the one
I want to spend my life with
And on the good days
I apologize
For the way I am
On the bad days.
I am perfect and perfectly happy
In my domesticated existence
Married with children
A home and job and car of my own
And my husband can satisfy me
And my children please me
And nothing makes me quite as happy
As hot chocolate
And a Cary Grant movie marathon
On my couch
With my cat in my lap
And my man on my side.
On the good days
The love of my life
And my husband
Are one and the same
And I curl up and tell him about my day
And listen to him about his.
We have it all
The picket fence
The cats
The kids
And I couldn't want anything more.
But on the bad days
When there is an air of pregnant silence
Surrounding us after a fight
Or lingering from an unresolved issue
Abandoned three days and fourteen conversations ago
And I think about what might happen if you died
I wouldn't kill you
But if something should happen accidentally
I wonder if life might be easier for me
I love these kids
But I wonder why they were ever born
But only on the bad days
On the bad days
When I have had one drink too many
Or three less than I need
I'll suddenly blurt out
All of the things
Be they petty or all-important
That annoy the shit out of me
About you
And I tell you you're not good at fucking
Even though that's only
Maybe true
Forty per cent of the time.
And I tell you we were married too young
Even though we weren't
But damn, it just seems sometimes
Like I missed out
On a shit ton of things
I should have done
Before I settled down
On the bad days
I cut all of my hair off
Because I am pissed at you
And have a hard time putting it into words
And I blame it on gum in my hair
Or I say a friend cut it for me
And did a shit job
But that's not true
And I'm pretty sure you know that
On the bad days
I am half the woman I ought to be
Or else I have taken on the work
Of twice as many as I am
And I can't sleep
And I eat too much
And I blame the kids for making me fat
I cry, and when you ask me why
I want to blow your brains out
For not already knowing
But how could you
I mean, after all,
You're only my husband
The love of my life
My better half
Right?
On the bad days
When I think church will help
And singing about Jesus
Will clear my head
I can't even concentrate
Because a tall, dark figure
Has crept his way into my head
My heart
And I keep hoping
Maybe someday
Into my bed
And he's up there talking about God
And I'm down there thinking
About if he's any good at fucking
How big his cock might be
And if he ever got a blow job in his life
Or at least one worth talking about
On the bad days
I am fantasizing
About getting licked by a man
Who has half the Bible memorized
Who has a sense of humor
Who is probably three times the man
That my man is
And I look over at the wife
Who has everything
And I love her and I hate her
At the same time
And I wish her well
But I also wish
Her husband would grab my tits
When we pass each other in the hall.
But back to the good days
Those are the days I absolutely know
You are the one
I want to spend my life with
And on the good days
I apologize
For the way I am
On the bad days.