I’ve been on a bit of a cleaning frenzy lately. Do you ever get that feeling where you must clean, organise and rearrange everything in your life to compensate for the fact that your life is a mess? Me neither.
I’ve not only started cleaning the things that are on display but also cleaning the things that are hidden away in cupboards. I’m basically a segment on The Living Room, a home-brand ripoff of Better Homes and Gardens. I’ve gone into my own house and created an unrealistic sense of a practical, functioning household for under $100 while making the parts of the house I haven’t touched seem incredibly inferior.
Also, Jamie Durie was there for some reason.
And while I thought cleaning was enough, apparently it wasn’t as I’ve taken it a step further. I’ve started baking. I don’t know if you know this about me but I’m actually a 47-year-old menopausal woman who bakes to distract herself from the previous thirty years of regret in her life.
I made carrot cake today. Carrot cake. Do you know how many people make carrot cake on a daily basis? One. And today that person was me. I shouldn’t be making carrot cake. The only type of cake I should be making is one made of concrete and beer, and even then I wouldn’t make a cake with those ingredients.
I’d make quiche.
So, I’ve decided to embrace this step towards menopause. Like all middle-aged women, I’m filled with resentment and anger. But like all middle-aged women, I’ve also realised I can give myself permission to start drinking at midday because “I deserve it”, even though all I’ve done is watch The Morning Show and read this year’s Christco catalogue.
I’m not trying to stereotype middle-aged women here, I just think I have a lot to learn from their crafty ways. If I grew up to be like most middle aged women, I would be more than happy with the life I had. And if for some reason I end up baking a second carrot cake, I guess at least I’ll have something delicious to eat at the end of it.
Either that or I’ll kill myself.