A Stab at a Sonnet

I know Julia Child said no apologies- but really rhymed poetry has never been my strong suit. I used to write love letters and poems for my sister when we were in school but sadly it appears that some things really do get harder with age. I sprang out of bed to write this the other night after some versus popped into my head. Having been sick for over a week now and really tunnel vision-ing my vacation starting soon, I have been somewhat uninspired of late which has proved frustrating. So I'm putting this late night, extended sonnet out into the world. Neither the syllables nor the length are dead on but both the factual content and rhyme scheme sure are. So here goes...

With bunny pee on my hoodie and puke on my pants,

I am at a loss for nightwear as I drift off to sleep,

Soon visions of washers through my head dance.

And I happily sigh as appliances into my dreams creep.

I love my splashy bath but a shower would be fine.

Merely a mop for the floor would be a novelty.

Or perhaps a dishwasher to rinse away the grime?

But even my broom is without a handle, a sad reality.

Although I know I mustn't be an ungrateful geezer,

The one appliance I own humms happily along.

But I wish my fridge were more than a giant freezer,

Sadly the temperature sings only one cold song.

Recently a microwave made me stop in my tracks.

I had no idea how to operate such a complex machine.

Staring at it with confusion while my brain I racked,

Then realizing it was futile trying to decode the screen.

Oh modern conveniences where can you be?

Modern conveniences all seem so foreign to me.