shell

Recently, I have been on a quest to be domestic. I feel like if I can somehow make my way through a kitchen I can find someone who will want to be with me. I am ashamed that I actually believe that previous sentence. You see my mother told me for years that my future husband would not be pleased with me because I did not have any skills in the kitchen. And now, a sophomore in college with no prospect in sight, I am desperately looking to learn how to maneuver a kitchen in order to find a husband. It is illogical, because in fact the only thing I really know how to do is clean up after myself when I make a gigantic mess. And at the end of the night, after I have found a way to put the kitchen back together again I am no closer to companionship.