Becoming Betty Crocker and Other (mis)Adventures
It’s finals week, I’m stressed. Beyond stressed.
Who am I kidding, I’m a comm major, we don’t have finals. My finals week was two weeks ago when I had a total of 7 hours of sleep in three days because I was scrambling to prepare for presentations and final case studies.
I’m busy coasting through this week, attending Christmas parties, searching for the perfect ugly sweater, considering beginning the job hunt, and grabbing some last minute Christmas gifts.
So why not hone my skills as a domesticated housewife?
Suddenly I find myself in the kitchen, making homemade soup, fruit dips, and trying my hand a single ingredient ice cream.
I’m Betty Crocker on a shoe-string budget and the newly crowned Pinterest Queen.
I am on top of the world.
Until my single-ingredient ice cream didn’t turn out the way I planned, I tried to run the washing machine with the lid open, and we don’t have milk to thin the chocolate chips I am trying to melt to dip in banana slices slathered in peanut butter.
But I recovered flawlessly (for a housewife in training) and made my own infinity scarf from a t-shirt that was old and too small.
After my past few days trying to be Betty Crocker, I realized while it’s fun to pretend to be domesticated, I should probably stick to being a wordsmith.