we went for coffee, and while we were speaking about my guy's dissertation proposal, i was crocheting a hat. the irony did not escape me that it must have made for an odd picture, me with my tats and 'do-rag, crocheting like mad, the cotton thread cone spinning around quickly, and the two of us having a very serious conversation about statistics, methodology, and lit reviews.
when we got home, to his place, i sauteed some onions, added hashbrowns, eggs, yogurt, and cheese, threw the egg casserole in the oven. ran around, loading the dishwasher, washing/drying/folding clothes, dashing off emails, and "cleaning" (this means that i took apart and then soaked, scrubbed, and reassembled) the can-opener.
my guy appears to be happier than a clam with all this domestication.
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Doc is the same way for some odd reason. He's happiest when I'm ripping the house apart , rearranging furniture, the general domestic chaos. (Hugs) Indigo
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