Martha Stewart

I have a dirty little secret.

I’m a domestic goddess.

I cook.

I clean.

I bake.

I crochet.

I sew.

Every person who walks into my house must have something to eat. If you don’t I’ll fill a little container with food and insist that you take it with you for the road.

It’s not a healthy situation. I have to hide this addiction. This is because religious boys love a domesticated girl. They want a replacement mother.

But I don’t want to be anybody’s mum. I don’t want to have to deal with the affection of boys who confuse hunger for love. I want somebody to like me for my brain, and then they get pleasantly surprised that they also get sushi salad and banana bread as a bonus.

So if anybody asks I don’t even know what a kitchen is.