This Animal is Domesticated.

I get excited about going home, popping open a bottle of wine, cooking dinner in the kitchen with Mike, getting on a treadmill, doing yoga in the living room, and sitting next to him on the couch while watching “So You Think You Can Dance”.  He watches it with me and enjoys it.  Plus I get nice little kisses on the neck and lots of snuggles and shit.  This pretty much makes him amazingly awesome in my book.
Tonight, he is helping me make a middle eastern feast (which is going to be fucking fantastic) and we are making our own tahini and hummus in our food processor! It’s sickening to a certain extent! As is my use of exclamation points!!

I am domestic.
And I love it.

All I’m missing is a really cute apron.  And maybe some khaki capris…and a mini-van with a soccer ball sticker on the back.  I’ll just stick with the apron.

P.S. – I am totally disgusted with the lack of pictures of chickens in aprons on the internet. I’m supposed to be able to find anything on this bitch.

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2 thoughts on “This Animal is Domesticated.

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