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| "Please don't burn us!" |
I don’t bake.
I don’t bake. I
don’t cook. I don’t decorate. I hate folding laundry. I hate washing dishes. Yeah, you want to marry me, I know. I’m the wife of your dreams.
So what am I doing tonight?
I did laundry. I
washed the dishes. I decorated. I’m cooking.
I’m baking. Or at least I’m trying.
Those little guys are probably burning while I type this!
So why the sudden domestication?
Company tomorrow.
My Sunday night group is convening at my place.
I owe it to them to try.
I owe it to myself. I owe it to
God. Not just in the sense of baking—though
if I pull this off it’ll be amazing—but because this is the season for me to try new things.
Dressing the way I want to dress. Listening to music I want to listen to. Hanging out with people I want to hang out
with. Finding hobbies that I love. Pushing myself to live.
I’ve spent my entire life unhealthily revolving around men.
I’ve let them decide my schedule, my diet, my friends, my
hobbies—even my interior design. I just
went with the flow, and going with the flow meant not having a style all my
own, or having responsibilities, because all of that was taken care of for
me.
Don’t want to cook? Let’s go out to eat. Don’t want to buy new sheets? Let me buy you sheets. That painting sucks. That TV isn’t big enough. That dress doesn’t look good on you.
So I changed. I
resigned. And I got lazy. Okay, you pick for me, because it’s easier
than fighting.
So tonight, I’m trying out new things. Adding new things to my Jamie-resumé. In a few minutes I’ll know if the cookies
Iiiiiiiiiiiiii made came out tasting like gingersnaps. In the morning, I’ll know if the stew I made
came out not-disgusting.
And if they didn’t, then try, try again.
And if they did, I guess there’s more to being me than I
thought.
