I love my little dollhouse.I wouldn't trade this home for the world.
I feel complete here. I feel protected. I feel fully expressed and fully housed.
The furniture has been placed just so.
The acoustics do wonders for my voice, Innocent's coos, and the piano.
The plumbing and heating and cooling and all those huge machines in the basement have been getting along quite nicely.
What more could a girl want from her beloved dollhouse, right?
I do love playing house, but it's a lot of work for one girl to do on her own.
I get home from work at 6 on most evenings, and when I stumble in the door, my voice is raspy and my brain is fried. All I want to do is eat and use the restroom and finally hear silence, but the lawn is reaching up, asking to be mowed.
The refrigerator is empty again, and so I must run to the grocery store. But my 1950s kitchen doesn't have a dishwasher, and I've got a big pile of plates and silverware that I ought to do first. The trash needs to be taken out, 4 bills need to go out in tomorrow's mail, a few loads of laundry should be done before the weekend, the birds need a chance to fly, the bathroom needs its weekly scrub-down, and I've got 82 personal emails that I haven't had a chance to view yet.
And, just as I'm about to pick which ought to take priority, I remember that I've got a meeting across the street at church. And so it all gets trumped. See why I never have time for phone calls or TV?
Couples have it great. One can work late; one can get home early. One can prepare the meal; one can wash the dishes. One can mow the lawn; the other could do laundry. One can jet to the grocery store while the other pays bills and gathers the trash. She'll scrub-down the bathroom; he's got the kitchen floor and sink. He'll stop by the bank tomorrow; she'll buy more stamps on her lunch break. And then later, they'll love one another and make all the stress and worries of the day go away, at least temporarily.
A single girl playing with her dollhouse isn't nearly as much fun as "playing house" with someone.Living by myself is hard work, emotionally and physically. My little arms are growing muscles and I kinda wish they weren't.
Dear God, where is the strong man that I need to help me run this household?
