Loss of blood makes me woozy

A History repeats entry

There's a minor recovery from the loss of blood. I'm still feeling - not quite there. Or, rather, not quite here. Fine distinction. I'm having trouble getting motivated to do anything. Clean the kitchen, rearrange the diningroom, do laundry. I'm supposed to be Suzie Homemaker, staying home while hero-hubby brings home the bacon (soy bacon for us kosher types) for me to fry up in the pan, but it just ain't happenin'. Where's my motivation?!

::sigh::

I guess my motivation should be to have a home that I'm proud to have guests in. But I don't care if they see the dust on my chatchkes (point of clarity: that's chatchkes, as in stuff, not gutkes, as in undies. It's easy to get the two confused, because with all the (in)fertility stuff that's going on, we haven't had nookie in so long, I'm sure my gutkes DO have dust on them.)

Well, at least I'm motivated to Jew-icise the ol' feminist perfume ad: I'm Sadie Homemakerberg, staying home while hubby-mensch brings home the brisket for me to roast up in the pan. Oh, who am I kidding? I don't even do the cooking. That's for gourmet hero-hubby. Tomorrow, he'll probably tell me that he's been darning his own socks.

Yeah? Well, he still can't balance the checkbook. So there.

posted by projgen @ 23:03