It’s days like today that I really wish I didn’t have to go to work. I would much prefer to crawl back into bed where it’s toasty warm and comfortable, and sleep off this headache.
I truly believe that I would make one hell of a housewife. I have visions of myself cooking all day long for my loving husband. I see myself with a list of daily chores to do, ticking them off one by one as I complete them. I like lists!
I would actually have time to go the gym every day, and I’d be skinny and sexy, and wearing a sexy maid’s outfit wouldn’t seem so scary.
For some reason though, my vision also includes a mansion and lots of marble staircases.
I think the only way I’m going to be a housewife is if I win the lottery.
Every time I take a week off work, I believe that I’m going to be extremely productive and the house is going to end up spotless, and there will be enough gourmet meals to feed an army. But alas, that never really happens. I end up sitting on the couch in my underwear watching re-runs of Opra and Dr. Phil, stuffing my face with Cheeto’s and bonbons.