Those who know me well know that I don’t do “domestic.” I may be crafty, which can sometimes be mistaken for domestic, what with the quilting and knitting and stuff, but these are very different characteristics. For example:
Cleaning: If there is a pile of steaming crap in the middle of the floor I might pick it up, but only if it is in my way and really stinky.
Cooking: Why the hell do you think packaged foods were invented?
Dishes: Oh HELL no! Paper plates.
But ever since Boyfriend moved in (yes big step big step) I have been feeling all…domestic-y. Actually, we are both fully embracing the domestic lifestyle. I have never…not one day in my life…made my bed. Bed is made everyday now. I go to the grocery store like 2-3 times a week…wtf…I HATE the grocery store. I cook dinner, I scrub pots, I even thought about cleaning a toilet (don’t worry I didn’t get that crazy).
The other day I putting the laundry in the washer…long before I reached my last pair of undies…and I looked out the window and saw boyfriend mowing the lawn. Gasp…when did I become Mrs. Cleaver…and if that is the case…when do I get to stop working and eat bonbons all day? Hmm?