Domesstic

Surprisingly, over the years I've discovered that

I'm pretty good at most things hearth and home:

My momma taught me how to set a pretty table

and fashion its lovely centerpiece without much effort.

I'm pretty clever when it comes to making 

things look good (on the surface), too...

... and I've proven that I'm pretty handy with 

a hammer, screwdriver, drill, or staple gun.

Decorating doesn't always come easy to me but

I manage just fine; Christmas trees are my specialty and

mine always looks just like my mom's,

right down to the cat curled underneath

But when it comes to the food part of domesticity, 

I am an epic failure, a real domesstic.

I just am not good at all things food:

I can't buy it, season it, cook it or enjoy 

any part of it except for eating it.

Yep, that's my fridge and what you see is $176.00 

worth of nothing, minus the three meals we ate 

at home this week (chicken, chicken, and chicken... 

the last chicken dinner consisting of a bowl of 

scissored - yes, scissored - breast doused in blue cheese).

I don't know what I'm going to do to make it better

but I'm thinking that if I moved here, 

it would have to get a lot easier, right?

My name is Ali, and I'm a domesstic.