The past few days I have been channeling the life of a house wife.
Or, according to a few people that shall remain nameless, "doing stuff kind of expected of you since, you know, you're unemployed".
Huh. What a curious thing to say.
For example, I cooked a nice mushroom risotto for dinner last night and had it ready, with the table set and drinks poured, when fiancé came home from work.
However, I was not cooking and serving said risotto dinner dressed in a full skirt and pearls but hey, if there's one thing reading Cosmopolitan has taught me it's that as a woman there are always things about yourself you can change and improve. Yay!
How wonderful it is to be told I will never be good enough!
Also I've spent a whole day doing laundry, hand washing things (note to self: start looking at the laundry tags of garments before buying them. If laundry tag says "cold hand wash only", gently place garment back on hanger and move away from the cash register. I repeat, MOVE AWAY FROM THE CASH REGISTER!), hanging and folding and what not.
Realizing that I have agreed to let fiancé's two little nephews stay over night with us on Friday night I have promptly broken in to a nervous sweat and, going about it like I have a severe case of OCD, tried to come up with activities and meals and treats that will translate to nephews telling their parents about what a great time they had staying at our house.
Because yes. I, a 26 year old woman, am scared of the potentially disapproving judgement of two small children who's collective age is less than mine divided in half (and apparently reminicent of a fourth grade math problem).
Why is this? And also, if it comes to the end of Friday night and it's apparent that nephews have had a less than incredible time, will slipping half a roofie in their warm milk help with wiping those memories out of their pliable little minds?
And more importantly, is this something that will go on my permanent police record if discovered?
Cause I really can't have that.
the hard stuff
13 hours ago