Spring cleaning? I’ll do it tomorrow!

My house is far from tidy, I’m afraid it looks a mess. Where the piles of stuff have come from Is anybody’s guess. I’ve let my standards slip, it’s true, So, it’s time for spring cleaning to begin. I’ll gather my trusty old tools around me, And together we will win. I fetch Florrie my feather duster, Sadly, she looks worse for wear. Most of her fine feathers are missing, She’s now just a stick with some hair. I boil the kettle, make some tea, And listen to the news. I hold Florrie very carefully, She’s much too old to use. Drack, the vacuum cleaner, Hides from the light, under the stairs, He refuses to work in the daytime, And hates ingesting mud or dirt or hairs. I make myself some coffee And take a biscuit from the tin. I pat the dog and stroke the cat And ponder where to begin. I find Molly the mop and Billy bucket, Absurdly she can’t bear getting wet. She watches intently as I scan the Racing Post, To find a good horse for a bet. Sally sponge detests detergent Dolly dustpan has fallen out with Bertie brush. I lie on my bed, no farther forward, And nod off in tranquil PM hush. After 40 winks, I go into the garden. In the shed I find Douglas, my spade. His handle has a serious woodworm issue, I sit down on a seat in the shade. I listen to a blackbird trilling, Would my neighbour have tools I could borrow? Alternatively, I could give the dog a walk, And start the spring cleaning tomorrow! Mrs Anita Bass, Theydon Bois, Essex.