Ars domucula

January 22, 2011 § 1 Comment

Whence, I wonder, my desire to be domestic? My best guess is that my subconscious panicked that I would never be able to survive by my wits alone and pulled out all the Betty Crocker stops in my brain, so that I could learn to stitch and soufflé and snare a rich husband by eyeing him coquettishly over a slice of my homemade banana bread. This would also explain my birthing hips*.

Since I don’t need a super-lot of credits to graduate, I’ve been taking a lighter courseload. This, combined with being unemployable, gives me lots of spare time. But since I go to a school where an aversion to batshitloads of homework is outré, I’m left making frequent and awkward jokes about my second major in Home Ec. Only, I’m not joking! Kind of! I actually really enjoy learning this stuff. Searing meat? Fascinating! Gluten development? TELL ME MORE.

This is basically just a long-winded way of saying that I’ve gotten really into making bread. But look! So tasty!

*No, it wouldn’t, because they don’t exist.

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