House Girlfriend

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House Girlfriend Fat Tuesday Mardi Gras King Cake Pralines 3 months ago

Fat Tuesday Feast, Part 3

Last but not least, the King Cake! (Baby not pictured.)

Please don’t judge my sad “serving platter”/really old cutting board. One of the true tragedies of my life is that I’m a house girlfriend and not a housewife; in other words, I’ve never had the joy of registering for things like a serving platter. One day…

And, finally, made-to-perfection pralines, made by my gorgeous friend Johanna, just like you can get right on Decatur Street by Cafe du Monde. (Notice the coffee?)

About the House Girlfriend

A MODERN GIRL'S (ATTEMPTED) GUIDE TO HOUSEKEEPING...

That's what I need. A guide. I used to have a job (a career even!) but more often than not, I now find myself in pajamas well past the acceptable time to be found in pajamas, pondering ice cream for breakfast and which version of Pride and Prejudice to waste my afternoon on. I've worked almost every day since I was sixteen... until now. And I don't quite know what to do with myself.

I purposely never learned to clean because I never wanted to have to. I purposely never learned to cook because the idea of winning over a man through his stomach seemed archaic and insulting. I purposely never learned to garden because I’d hate to ruin my manicure- if I ever actually got one.

But here I am. Nothing to do but pull my weight around our apartment, i.e. cook, clean, and generally keep house for The Boyfriend, who lovingly doesn't seem to mind if I never go back to work again.

And when I can get out of my pajamas at a reasonable hour, I find I don't hate it, this housekeeping thing. In fact, I might love it, being a House Girlfriend- and maybe I'll write that guide myself. If only I could get up the courage to scrub out the bathtub...