Why I’d make a crap housewife

I’m tired, again. I really, really want to go to sleep, but I can’t. In 45 minutes I have to go eat with my floor. They have a thing lately about eating together once a week. Two or three people do the cooking and the rest of us turn up when it’s ready and enjoy. It’s quite a nice idea actually.

I also have to go down into the cellar and fetch the washing that I left down there to dry. There’s a room down there with a bunch of those metal things that my mam always called clothes horses and my dad calls airers. Before coming to Germany I never realised cellars had actual rooms in them. I always pictured one big room that covered the whole area of the house above it, kind of like a loft but without the slopey roof and random bits of wood (beams I belive their called) lying in wait for unsuspecting victims to bang their heads on. So I was quite surprised when Jan first took me to his parents house and I found out their cellar is divided into about 6 different rooms. And not all of them are used for storing potatoes and wine either, which is what I’d always assumed cellars were for. So there you go. Anyway, I digress…
So, as I was saying… I need to go and collect my washing from downstairs. Once I’ve fetched it I need to replace the incredibly dirty bedding that’s on my bed with the nice clean stuff that I washed the other day. I meant to change the bedding at the weekend, but then I realised the one other quilt cover that I actually have in this country was in the laundry basket waiting to be washed, so that was a bit crap.

Stuff like that is typical of me. That’s one of the reasons I would make a crap housewife.
Here are some more reasons:

* I cannot iron to save my life. This is despite my dad, who was in the army, teaching me how then forcing me to iron my school blouses every week for 4 years. When I try to iron the clothes end up more creased than when I started. You’d think that would be impossible. Not with me it isn’t. I’m also scared of the iron, which doesn’t help. I’m afraid I’m going to burn my fingers or set the clothes on fire or something. Weird I know, but I just can’t help it.

* I’m also crap at shopping. Not clothes shopping – I can do that. I can also do shopping for books pretty well. No, it’s food shopping I suck at. Whenever I go shopping I will always forget half the things I need. Usually I will come back with a load of stuff I don’t need instead. Now you’re probably thinking the solution would be to write a list. Nope, doesn’t work. I’ve tried it. 99.99% of the time I leave the list at home.

* I hate washing up with a passion. Partly it’s because I’m allergic to most washing up liquids and I don’t particularly like coming out in a rash, but even with a brand of washing up liquid that I can use I don’t like it. It’s the way all the little bits come off the dishes and end up floating around in the water, then when they brush up against your fingers they feel all soggy and disgusting. Plus your hands end up all wrinkly and smell funny. I don’t like washing up with rubber gloves either. The feel of rubber gloves is worse than the soggy floaters.

* I’m far, far too lazy to make a good housewife. I’ll put things down somewhere, meaning to put them away later, then I’ll put more things down on top of the original things and a week later I’ll look at the pile of stuff and think “I should really put that away, but I sooo can’t be bothered.”

See? Crap! The only housewifely (housewifeish?) thing I can do is cook. I’m pretty good at cooking. Last night I made chicken and chick pea curry for tea. It was only the third time in my life I’d made curry and I wasn’t even using a recipe, but it came out pretty well – despite the fact that my floor has the worst selection of spices ever!! So I’ve got the cooking thing down. As for the rest… I guess I’ll just have to marry a man that likes to iron and doesn’t mind washing dishes…


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