Playing House

The rental house does not have a dishwasher, or a garbage disposal, or, as I realized the first time I washed dishes, a sprayer at the kitchen sink.  The kitchen sink is enameled cast iron and probably weighs 200 pounds. I know I'll break a few glasses washing dishes in that sink. (Picture Jim rolling his eyes when he reads that last sentence.  Sure, Anne, YOU'LL be washing dishes.)

It's an exaggeration to say we're living in primitive conditions.  But I keep wanting to say it. Because I'm spoiled.  Even our circa 1981, Menard's quality kitchen spoiled me.

I have a fantasy of living a simpler, Waldenesq life but when faced with the reality of doing it...I don't know if I could handle it.  

When I was a real renter I spent very little time thinking about the people who came before me.  The rental was built in 1926.  Every time I walk in the door (Hi Honey, I'm home) I wonder about the first family that lived in the house.  Actually, I wonder about the first wife that lived in the house.

My hair's a bit longer than usual right now.   I think it looks best when I first wake up.  I look girly in a mussed up sort of way.  When I look at the mirror in the morning I imagine my self as a 1920's house wife getting up before my family in order to get the house ready for the family's day. (Jim will tell you when I'm looking in the mirror he's been up for an hour and has given me my first dose of coffee just to get me to out of bed.)

Sometimes I wonder if the simplicity of this house wore her down - as she washed endless dishes in that tiny, hot kitchen. Or if the house - with it's electrical outlets EVERYWHERE was a high-tech marvel full of time saving gadgets to make her life easier.  (I am very happy that the Dyson works with all those outlets.)

What I wonder most often (usually when I come home from work with my younger daughter opening the screen door and giving me a formal bow and a crooked little silly smile as I come in) is the most obvious question.  Could that first house wife handle my life and, more importantly, could I survive hers?