I’ve never liked doing housework.
Perhaps it is because I’ve never really had a house. For more years than I like to think about (over twenty), I’ve lived in a bus and then in our motorhome. There just isn’t enough room in either of those to do much housework.
Or perhaps it is because now Andrew and I have modern methods of doing some of the housework. We have a dish washer, the first time I’ve ever had one in my entire life. And we have a Roomba, a computerized, automated robotic vacuum cleaner.
Then again, since moving here to New Zealand, I have been enjoying simply working with my hands (and arms and legs) more than I have in several years. I like cutting and splitting wood. I like working in our gardens, even though so far, my efforts aren’t being very successful, what with bugs eating everything the day after it germinates and with Tazmin digging up new garden spots.
I like the physical exertion. And my growing muscles. And my slimming waistline. I like the feel of tired, sore muscles, provided it isn’t that I overexerted my back. And I like the feeling of accomplishment.
In many ways, living here in our new home has awakened me to many of the joys of simple living and simply living. I like hearing the Tuis (and many other birds) singing in the trees. I like walking down our driveway with Tazmin to the beach to meet Andrew as he rides his bicycle home from work, and then walking together along the beach as Tazmin plays in the water and eats shells. I like breathing the amazingly pure and clear air. I like feeling the sun during the surprisingly common sunny days.
In short, I like living here in our new home. We have a wonderful life together.
But Andrew still does the cooking. He’s much better at it and seems to enjoy it.