why i am going to die alone

I think it's time to update this.

So, I was thinking to myself yesterday: if I get married, does that mean that I will have to suddenly be fluent in the arts of sandwich-making and housecleaning? Because if those are job descriptions, I am in for some serious sh......................ugar. Not to mention my poor potential husband. I sure hope he likes PB&J.

"What's for dinner, honey?"

"PB&J!"

"What's for breakfast, honey?"

"PB&J!"

And then there's my cleaning skills. Or to rephrase, And then there's the vacant gaping hole where my cleaning skills should be. That pile of crap in my room is usually about the height of my 3 year old brother. And I don't know what cleaning products are for what.

I think I am just going to have to marry a Mr.Clean/Chef Boyardee combo if this hypothetical marriage is going to work.

Ok, and I KNOW I will get bored staying at home all day. Chances are, WhoeverImarry will have a more legitimate job than me. Because that's not hard. So it makes sense that I will be Penelope and Whoeverheis will be Odysseus. I don't think I'd make a good Penelope. I'm much more of an Odysseus. And if you rule out cleaning and cooking, there's not much to do at home, besides TV.

What to do, what to do...

If I am a "kept woman," which is my secret life's ambition, I will have the luxury of volunteering at a homeless shelter all day or something because money will be no object and because I will pay my cleaning ladies and chefs extravegantly. That would be kinda neat. And I wouldn't get bored.

Ok, so, I have to marry a very RICH Mr. Clean-Boyardee.

If you're out there, fabulously rich and handsome Mr. Clean-Boyardee, I am the woman for you. I can whisper witty anecdotes into your ear and you can be so proud of me and my volunteering. Of course I will be devoted to you because you are perfect. And that's why you don't exist. And that's why I'm going to die alone.

Till next time,
the future Mrs. Clean-Boyardee, a.k.a. grace