My name is L, and I am a writer. I don't mean that's my job, because it's not. I try not to define myself by my employment, mostly because I currently don't have any. I spent four years in college freaking out about grades and perfection so I could get a good job after graduation. I wonder if I would do it differently knowing I'd still be unemployed four months after walking the line with my Magna Cum Laude medal.
My husband B is the bread-winner. He went to two years of community college and now works for the best corporation in town. Funny how these things work out. I'm working on the housewife role. I always enviend June Cleaver's life a little. Although I don't generally put on a flouncy dress every morning so I can scrub our toilet. It's actually quite a feat if I change out of my sweatpants. And it's always a treat for B to come home to me actually wearing some makeup. Maybe I have a ways to go before I'm as quaint as June.
Another thing...I'm not sure "housewife" is actually the right term for me. I mean, it's more like "basement apartment wife." We like to call our little abode "The Ann Cave." It really is a little hole-in-the-wall place. A walk-out basement turned apartment by our crazy landlady who lives upstairs (Ann). Ann is really quite nice. And also wealthy. She drives a Jag, travels the world (one of the walls in our apartment is papered with a giant map), and only wears robes. Yes, robes. Not like we occasionally catch her off gaurd in her robe when we bring up the rent check. More like we have a scheduled six o'clock meeting, we call at 5:45 to confirm, show up...and there she is in a different robe. I imagine her closet is lined in them, that perhaps when she made her second million, she decided to throw away all her other clothes and trade them for robes. It's certainly one of my goals.
Of course, being a college graduate with big career plans and ending up unemployed is a bit of a disappointment. Especially in this day, where the first question everyone asks is, "So where are you working now?" I try to ignore their insensitivity. But some mornings, like today, I brood over it while I drink my coffee and plan that night's casserole. And tighten the belt of my robe.
