My parents thought that the most loving thing for me was to give me a good education, so that I can get a well paying job, and hire people to do things for me. And while that is completely valid, I’m at a point now where I’m living with James, completely not knowing how to cook, clean, etc, etc.
Therefore whenever I’m in the kitchen and it doesn’t burn down, I’m happy. There was a really great sense of satisfaction when my mash potatoes came out really yummy. Or my carbonara. Coming from someone who had not stepped into the kitchen, pretty much her whole life, that’s pretty big.
And now I just scrubbed the shower screen and walls, and I’m feeling a really great sense of accomplishment as well. Not that he needs to, but having a little bit of appreciation from James would be nice, but I reckon he’s too male to notice the different state of cleanliness in the house.