I am morphing into this woman I don’t know. Shudder! Shudder! I have become a Hausfrau. That, folks, is an offensive term for a woman who is too domesticated. Yes, it’s offensive that I am doing everything I loathed and not whining and cribbing about it. Maybe I am going cuckoo or simply growing up (yup! 39 soon and all grown up!) but I am definitely not the person I was.
Consider this. I hold a full-time job as an editor that includes taking care of an entire magazine, supervising another one and yada-yada-yada other important stuff that I will not gloat about here. I tweet at times, go Facebooking and I did a 30-day blogging challenge recently. And wait, I have a teen in the house. Who wants to become the next Junior Masterchef. But scampers when I tell him training begins by separating the methi (fenugreek) leaves one by one from the stalks.
I digress. What I wanted to say is that I do all the housework. Now. At least for the time being. I wanted to write this in shouty ALL CAPS, but I don’t want to scare the three-and-a-half readers I have… you get the drift, no?
Okay, where was I? So in the last couple of months, I’ve turned into this domesticated person I don’t know. For starters, I cooked 100 iddlis yesterday along with chutney and sambhar for 20 people (you do the Math, okay!) and enjoyed it. The sight of fluffy poo-polla (soft like a flower) iddlis brought tears to my eyes. I’ve been baking all those goodies (eggless cakes, bread rolls, masala buns, etc) with my iPad propped up on the kitchen counter and attempting recipes like a pro. I cook three fresh meals a day and then some…
And wait, as I’ve mentioned so many times before, I’ve also fallen in love with my new Samsung washing machine and the little balcony where I dry the clothes and stand with a cup of coffee looking at the new building coming up. As I sweep, swab and dust with a vengeance I repeat this with pride, “House-help, who?”
The normally, over-helpful husband tied down by the rigours of year-end audit and software implementation is feeling left out of the whole scenario. For he’s the house-proud person…with all the spoons and forks in the right places and of course, high praise from all the right places.
But I am not being too optimistic. For a school composition, I had once written, “I don’t want to get stuck in the rut of domesticity!” We’ll wait and see… who gets the better of me first? That big fat swelling on my right hand that surfaces at the end of the day or plain old lethargy!
But whatever it is, there is always a solution at hand – the husband can take over gladly.
And then, perhaps I can quit my Hausfrau
aspirations delusions and go to Jungfrau. (I told you before, all those lame jokes in office are really getting to me!)