Divvying Up The Housework

I run a tight and proper ship, I make sure things are tidy.
Myself – I’m somewhat Crusoe-esque, my family are Man Friday.
I seek out any sloppy work with undeterred voracity,
And rectify it (in a supervisory capacity.)

My wife and loving children all pay heed to my opinions,
And do their chores quite willingly, as one expects from minions.
Everyone looks forward to my evening-time inspection -
Their faces light with joy when there is no need for correction.

I run my fingers ‘cross the shelves, in case they need a dusting,
And flecks of mud on football boots, I simply find disgusting.
I go through all the ironing and measure all the creases,
Yes, my quest for perfect housework hardly ever ceases.

Hairs discovered in the bath are carefully recorded,
And punishments for this offence judiciously awarded.
Duvets must be placed with a symmetrical precision,
And woe betide the malcontent who argues my decision.

I run a tight and proper ship, my family are grateful
That I take on this thankless job that everyone finds hateful.
I notice things that aren’t placed straight, if only in a small way,
Like, just for an example, those four cases in the hallway.