Neither myself nor my mother was born with the housewife gene. The sad thing is that we both wish we had: we dream of lemon-scented kitchens and sun-soaked patios, butterfly gardens and pantries filled with home made jams and pickled garden vegetables. Oh, if only our lives could be like that of a Food Network celebrity, with al fresco dinner parties every other evening and with a house so clean, shiny and compartmentalized that Martha Stewart herself would die of envy.
This is not the life we lead.
Not to say that the chaotic lifestyle we lead isn't of our own doing, but in our defense I will point out that household tasks such as folding laundry and "putting things away" (much less finding a place for things in the first place) go against our baser nature. We've read too many fantasy novels as children, you see: in fantasy novels, there is no talk of labelling spice jars, or cleaning out the fridge when that soggy bag of unused tomato bits finally topples and spills out all over the bottom shelf. The heroines in fantasy novels have magic to do those things for them! And even if some of them don't live in a magical land where the dishes do themselves, they're usually too preoccupied with battling evil to worry about the state of their kitchens.
This is, more or less, the problem at hand: we are still waiting for the dishes to magically do themselves. So far, though, it hasn't happened. And there hasn't been any evil afoot within our battling capabilities, although we are constantly vigilant for an opportunity to go on an extraordinary adventure (hopefully involving wood elves or enchanted rings) to present itself. All this wishing and waiting around for something bigger and better and more magical has left us a bit disenchanted (and hopeless) with things like bathroom cleaning solutions and Swiffer Wet Jets. So, clueless, we look to television, where Giada and the Barefoot Contessa are blithely leading their sun-shiney, lemon-scented lives with nary a mop to be seen, and we wonder why our home doesn't look like theirs.
This is not the life we lead.
Not to say that the chaotic lifestyle we lead isn't of our own doing, but in our defense I will point out that household tasks such as folding laundry and "putting things away" (much less finding a place for things in the first place) go against our baser nature. We've read too many fantasy novels as children, you see: in fantasy novels, there is no talk of labelling spice jars, or cleaning out the fridge when that soggy bag of unused tomato bits finally topples and spills out all over the bottom shelf. The heroines in fantasy novels have magic to do those things for them! And even if some of them don't live in a magical land where the dishes do themselves, they're usually too preoccupied with battling evil to worry about the state of their kitchens.
This is, more or less, the problem at hand: we are still waiting for the dishes to magically do themselves. So far, though, it hasn't happened. And there hasn't been any evil afoot within our battling capabilities, although we are constantly vigilant for an opportunity to go on an extraordinary adventure (hopefully involving wood elves or enchanted rings) to present itself. All this wishing and waiting around for something bigger and better and more magical has left us a bit disenchanted (and hopeless) with things like bathroom cleaning solutions and Swiffer Wet Jets. So, clueless, we look to television, where Giada and the Barefoot Contessa are blithely leading their sun-shiney, lemon-scented lives with nary a mop to be seen, and we wonder why our home doesn't look like theirs.
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