Yo wifey

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It has recently come to my attention (apparently my parents have been concerned about it for some time) that I cannot cook to save myself, my cleaning skills are satisfactory at best and the closest I can say I have come to doing laundry is separating whites from colours and letting the fancy fabric sensing washing machine do it's thing.  In short, I fail in all the necessary qualities that would determine me to be a good wifey.

It's not that I am on the search for a husband (I've already decided a house in Mexico, full of cats is my inevitable destiny), however upon examining myself and my associates, I see that we are all truly failures in the art of domesticity.  Sure, we can make cupcakes (from a box) and if pushed could probably produce a non-illness-inducing meal for dinner (noodles), there's a few who can sew (pin cushions) and while we can vacuum I'm going to suggest that bleaching the walls or knowing how to clean an oven is beyond our limited capabilities.  Where has the domestic skill of old gone?  Was it lost in the bra burning days of extremist feminism?  Or have, like everything else in the world, such skills been lost to the 'evil' that is technology?

On the technology front, I have to admit that until recently, porridge only existed in sachets that were poured into bowls, topped up with the instructed amount of water and zapped in the microwave.  Rice continues to exist for me as a microwave only food and with the advent of the Watties 'steam fresh' bags I don't think I'll ever actually boil/steam a carrot in my life.  Sometimes, however I do wistfully reflect that it would be nice if I actually knew how to fulfil some of these typical 'wifey' roles.  Not because I feel that I have to, but I actually think it would be useful to know how to do things for myself.

Some neo-feminist crazy out there is going to condemn this as destabilising the rights that they (the now saggy-boobed and short haired ladies out there) fought for.  However, was the purpose of feminism not to allow women the right to choose their fate, rather than have it prescribed to them by society?  So theoretically there is a possibility that I actually might choose (yes, shocking I know) to want to know how to cook and clean and do the washing properly, and not at all because I have a male telling me that that is what needs to be done.  Just putting it out there- I like to eat food that doesn't make me gag, live in a house that doesn't induce an asthma attack due to the 2 inch layer of dust atop everything and well, clean clothes are going to make having friends (...and a job) a whole lot easier.

Mum has been on the war-path in an attempt to pass on some of her wifey skills, though I think poor Dad has given up all together and is resigned to the fact that they're living out old age potentially eating two minute noodles and microwave porridge based on what he's witnessed from my current capabilities.  I, on the other hand am optimistic!  Now that I have mastered porridge (in a saucepan even, my friends!), who knows what the future may hold?  The days of poisoning my family with undercooked chicken fajitas are coming to a close and my journey toward the lofty title of domestic goddess is just beginning... Watch this space!

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