I survived.
And I changed my mind.
I've always said I wanted a rich man to marry me and tell me that I don't have to work anymore. Never mind. I don't think I'm cut out to be a housewife.
At. All.
I knew this when I nearly sat down in the middle of Wal-Mart and began to cry. The thought of planning meals for every day of the week was enough to send me over the edge. I HATE cooking. I've never pretended otherwise. More than cooking though, I hate shopping for groceries. Now I know why everyone is so grumpy in Wal-Mart. They are grocery shopping and they're depressed. I was with them on Saturday.
I guess I just never got it before because I was always the single girl bopping in there for my hair products and an occasional box of cereal.....which is how I cook.
Yesterday my father informed me that my spaghetti tasted nothing like my mom's. I replied with a "You most certainly do NOT have to eat it because if it was up to me, I wouldn't be cooking at all."
Tonight.....we're having breakfast. Because it's my favorite meal and I no longer cook to please others. I'm going to cook what I like.
Boy, when I just read that sentence after I typed it I thought to myself "I'm going to make a GREAT wife someday. Poor guy."
The whole house was clean when I left for church last night. When I returned, the kitchen looked like an explosion. Apparently my dad decided to grill and left all the dishes in the house dirty for me. Thanks!
I totally left them there because, frankly, I was tired and didn't feel like doing them. The problem is, I am going to have to do dishes tonight before I can even begin to cook. And I'm not even going to talk about the laundry. I'm not.
I can't believe I just made a whole post out of something that other women do every day. But as it's been established, I'm not other women.
How long does it take a broken foot to heal?
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