Domestication

My sister-in-law told me that once she got halfway through her pregnancy she couldnt stop cleaning her house. I said that that would never happen to me - anyone who knows me knows that i have an aversion to cleaning, or manic cleaning anyway. I'm happy to have my my house look " lived in " - not slovenly, but a few pairs of shoes by the front door and a pile of unfolded washing in the spare lounge chair dont faze me.

Well - not anymore. Its come as a slight suprise to me that in the past few weeks i've come across a nesting gene i didnt think i had. I dont think its because i'm pregnant though - i'm putting it down to trying to impress Mr Gil. Actually, i dont think that impress is the right word. Its just that we're living together as a couple and we're starting a family and i feel the need to keep the house tidier now. No, i'm not prescribing to feminine values of the 50's ( have his meal when he gets home ? Run him a bath ? Making sure the kids are seen and not heard ? Uh...nuh ) its just that its something i can do in the domestic partnership.

For eg - i cook most nights, so he does the dishes. If he puts a load of washing on, i hang it out. If he's outside mowing the lawn, i'll be inside cleaning the bathroom. Or whatever.

So there you have it - i've become domesticated. Like a dog. But not like a cat - thos bastards are malicious, evil little things....