I've been a good un-housewife today. Laundry, dishes, work, organizing.
It wasn't so long ago I was a housewife-in-training. Girl Tuesday and I would abscond to Hobby Lobby Saturday nights and make a stop at Los Amigos for daiquiris and rice and chips. Just because we are adults, we figured we are allowed to break the rules of balanced meals from time to time.
We would make fun of the stupid things our (now ex) boyfriends would say and do.
Like leaving splashes of vodka in the bottle.
Like loading the dishwasher to beyond full capacity and not start it.
Like, oh, I don't even remember anymore.
I miss those days.
Back when I had six cats (or eleven) and a rabbit and one time a stepson staying in my house.
Back when I did laundry nearly every day, and I could easily have a load of whites once a week so my socks were brand-new white.
Back when I had a built-in drinking buddy.
I could go on.
The feminist in me feels like I let down a whole decade of women's lib-bers. I feel like I'm supposed to go out into this world and lead and reign supreme. Because I am woman, and I can roar better than any of you.
But someone's gotta stay home and keep it from burning down, or at least make sure the utilities don't get disconnected. (That reminds me of a story I can laugh about now. I once had a roomate who caught my kitchen on fire. Twice.)
I can talk about almost anything. And I can do quite a few things. It's just I'm best at being a housewife. I'm good at staying home and looking after things. Well, at least I like to think I am good at that. I'm really not. But at least I keep the bills paid, laundry done, animals vaccinated, and everyone loved. That's gotta count for something, right?
