I actually enjoy being a homemaker. There; I’ve said it. I
get a great deal of pleasure out of stacks of freshly laundered, neatly folded
sheets and towels. I love the way a pot of homemade marinara or a sheet of
gingerbread cookies can make my whole house smell wonderful. When I’ve just
swept and mopped the kitchen floor or polished the countertop, the shine can
captivate me for hours. Edgar Guest was wrong. It doesn’t take “a heap o’ livin’
in a house t’ make it home.” It takes a heap of work; the kind of work that no
one ever notices unless it hasn’t been done. I don’t get a paycheck for this,
and there’s no Christmas bonus coming. The only satisfaction I’m ever likely to
receive from being chief cook and bottle washer is the joy of having done
something well. Luckily for me and for my family, that’s enough.
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