I have no clue why, but lately I'm the goddess of domestic. I wake up and start thinking about what I can clean. I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, because in the last two (almost three) years of not working, I have not been the best housewife I could have been. Who wouldn't rather sit on their ass watching t.v.? Not everyone is lazy like me, and I'd prefer to lounge on the couch and read a book, read a magazine, stalk people on Facebook or anything besides clean.
So what has gotten into me? I guess I've finally grasped the concept that I am a housewife, and this is my job. No one else is going to dust the furniture, because, really, between Adam and Addison, they are male and don't notice dust. They also don't notice that the toilet bowl is big enough to be able to get all their urine inside it, not on the outside. I'm thinking of trying to get them to sit when peeing. Maybe I'll stitch up a sampler of the tried but true, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie."
Regardless, I feel good having a clean house and underwear in my drawer, not languishing in a basket. I have found out I can cook. I'm not spectacular and will never be invited to be on The Next Food Network Star, but I've moved beyond tacos and beef stew. I even bought myself a Paula Deen hand grater, and a zester, because everyone needs a zester, right?