... or househusband.

In these times of little precedence, it has been a challenge for all of us to adjust from the old normal to a new one. But, nevertheless, there is always a bright side, usually. I could probably think of a few things without a bright side if I really tried. Maybe Cats: The Musical or that one time when a seagull stole my french fry. Damn you, Mr. Seagull! Damn you!

The raging pandemic, however terrible, has given me a lot of time to reflect on my values and my beliefs. It has made me realize that I have a little colonial housewife deep inside me. Perhaps we all do.

I realized this one day after a run while I was washing my government recommended facial covering (neé bandana) in the sink. I run multiple times a week, but only do laundry weekly, so the bandana gets washed by hand. I squeeze some soap on it, soak it, and then rub it on my soap dish (pictured below) that sort of functions as an old fashioned washing board. I hum and smile, knowing that I've become the perfectly domesticated 17th Century woman I always wanted to be.

Tomorrow, I think I will go out and find a cow to milk and then maybe churn some butter. I hope they have cows in Boston. I wonder how many petticoats I should order from Etsy. Did they have running water in colonial America? Did they wash their clothes in the sink, or did they need to lug them to the river? Let me know in the comments!