While I was growing up, it seemed like something was always falling apart or breaking around the house; dishwasher, disposal, washing machine, etc... My dad would mysteriously find forks, knives or paper towels in the disposal, chunks of food & icky stuff piled up in the dishwasher, and wonder how the washing machine got 6 inches away from the wall. Despite the inconvenience of it all, these mishaps were always more amusing than annoying. Though we didn’t point a finger, my mother seemed to be linked to these mysteries in some way as she did most of the housework. (Disclaimer: I have the most amazing, loving & understanding mother. She’s always kept an immaculate home & cooked yummy food!)
It’s not until very recently that I’ve come to appreciate the complexities of real domestic life. I’ve cooked and cleaned for myself since I was 18; so one would think I was competent at such everyday activities. A little background info: My mother had to type 4 pages of instructions on “how to do laundry” before I went to college. Needless to say, my first year of college I struggled to balance taking care of myself with studies. I quickly came to appreciate 24hour Wal-Mart and visits home. But, that was a long time ago. I have obviously managed to figure out how to balance my life and responsibilities since then. However, I have spent the past 5 ½ years living in New York City (a.k.a. an adult playground) where I worked in a restaurant (free meals!), had the luxury of Laundromats and cleaning services, as well as every kind of good food imaginable delivered upon request day or night. So, I guess you can see why my domestic skills are a little rusty.
It’s important to disclose that Joe & I live with his mother. Joe’s flat is simply too small for the two of us, so his mother offered to let us live with her while Joe finished his studies. I have a feeling she may be regretting that invitation now! Anyway, it’s been a looooooooong time since I lived with a parent. There are perks and drawbacks. I get to appreciate a home cooked meal every night, the wisdom imparted by a mother & I live in a much nicer residence than Joe & I could afford on our own. However, I am in someone else’s home with their rules and, more importantly, their things. To date: I have managed to ruin a frying pan & fill the entire apartment with smoke. I immediately, but discretely, ran around the apartment opening all the windows. All the while, I was having flashbacks of my mother performing a very similar task with the additional image of her frantically fanning a broom in front of a beeping smoke detector. Fortunately, the smell of burnt Teflon & eggs was over powered by cigarette smoke. Joe’s mother, ever efficient and patient, had the pan replaced before I could make a proper apology or explanation. (PHEW!) I have also managed to melt a knife...well, the handle of a knife, by leaving it on a hot stovetop. (I was wondering why there was an aroma of burning rubber while I cooked?) Fortunately, this was a mistake more easily rectified. Joe quickly scrubbed the stovetop and threw away the evidence. Then, this morning, I found myself in front of the washing machine for two hours cleaning up puddles of water, googling what code “F09” on a whirlpool A993 meant & trying to figure out where the drain plug thingy was located. Apparently, I managed to break the washing machine too!
Joe & his mother keep telling me it’s not my fault, “these things happen”, but I can’t help but feel pangs of guilt & incompetence. I usually do quite well with life’s responsibilities and domestic duties...at least I did while I lived on my own. It’s just that, Joe’s mother handles everything with such finesse and grace; I am constantly left feeling like a novice, which I guess I am next to her. So, tonight I cooked dinner in hopes of easing my guilty conscience & proving I’m not entirely a klutz. Joe & his mother were more than gracious with their compliments as I managed to cook a delicious meal from scratch without any mishaps or problems. Thankfully, I’m a quick study.
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