Yesterday, when I woke up, I had a clear plan for the day: Clean up the house and go out. However, when I finally got out of bed at noon, I immediately sat down at my computer and started watching TV. The hours flew by and suddenly my watch ticked three. By now I felt like the day was wasted, and it wouldn't make a difference if I rushed with the housework, since I would hardly make it in time to see my friends.
In the next four hours I took out truckloads of trash and compost, washed and hanged clothes to dry, I did the dishes and took care of the cats. I even spent an hour trying to vanquish a ketchup stain on a white shirt but defeated. After this tight battle, I went for a walk. Well actually I went to buy bread and cream, for a tasty desert I whipped up later. On my ''walk'' I couldn't help but feel miserable. It was as if I was housewife, a desperate houseteen. Only I was no Bree Van De Kamp, but more a Susan Mayer who, although put a lot of effort into it, did not do a very good job with all the cleaning.
Coming back from the store I called some friends to ask what they were up to. Most were out, some to the movies, some just having fun and others bowling with their friends. I was jealous, and decided to eat the feelings away. I went home and whipped up a tasty dessert, it was no Susan Mayer dessert nor a Bree, but it was good.
Sugar flowing in my blood, I felt happy again. I had not seen my friends or gone for a morning jog, but at least I had made a good dessert and got some of the housework done. This small pleasure wasn't enough to make my day, but it made me learn something about myself: I will rather run a marathon in high heels, than become anybodys housewife.
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