I am perfect(ly imperfect)
My kitchen floor, you could eat off it (if you’re current on your tetanus)
The dinners I deliver, delightful (if you consider mayo and cardiac arrest a side dish)
My appearance is impeccable (I forgot about that stain, shut up)
And my feet, my lovely feet, so pampered and feminine (for a Hobbit)
I awake every morning with a proper attitude (a wonderful day starts with the thought, what the fuck, this shit again)
And always think to myself what can I do for the world today (that will not involve too much actual humanity)
I take excellent care of my cats (telling them I will murder them and make coin purses out of their ears if they steal food off my plate one more time is tough love)
And as a mother I know no equal (every time he leaves, my parting line is ‘No hospitals, No cops, anything else we can deal with’)
I think you will agree.
I am perfect(ly imperfect).
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