Being My Own Housewife

After two consecutive nights of crying myself to sleep over season two of “Grey’s Anatomy” I began to realize I was a little bit hormonal.  When I’m feeling this way, I tend to nest.  I do all the chores I normally hate.   Like laundry.  It is almost an impossible task to convince me to do laundry.

But the laundry is done.  My dishes are done . . . or they were done  before I made scones.  I went to the grocery store.  I did yoga and then went to the gym.  I’m feeling pretty on top of my game.

Now, I’m kicking back, enjoying a beer, eating my scones, and watching a movie.  Loving that nobody cares that I still have my laundry hanging on drying racks around my apartment and that I have loose pages from the drawings I’m working on for the Boyfriend scattered all over the floor.

As Mel Brooks would probably say, were he the type to get all nesty when he got hormonal and if he were a woman, “It’s good to be my own housewife.”

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