I have spent the last week on a seemingly endless search through the bowels of the internet to find jobs that at least vaguely resemble a thing that could make me a living without destroying my soul (and my arches). Thus far I have found some pretty sweet looking positions, but heard nothing back. I have to remember that I have only lived here two weeks.
The strangest thing to me is analyzing my day to day interactions with Boyfriend. Now that he is working and I am at home, we have settled in to some extremely stereotypical gender roles. Because he is paying my bills, I feel obligated to provide in some way. I’ve been cooking and cleaning and making sure the house is nice and food is ready when he gets home. I don’t mind this at all, I really like cooking and it gives me a break from the trudge of job searching. What’s weird, though, is how that seems to translate in to other things. He’s been setting up electronics, I’ve been decorating, and I can’t draw the line between what we want to be doing and what we are expected to do.
I am happy, though. I don’t feel pressure to cook dinner or clean the house. I like a clean house and Boyfriend only knows how to make one meal (glorified refried beans on a plate… he calls it “plop”… so I do the cooking.) Taking on this homemaker role, though extremely temporary, seems like a hilarious fit with No Pants 2011 and exploring what women have experienced before all of these wonderful rights were ours. Being dependent and unemployed at home is a wonderful way to appreciate the right to work outside the home.
I can’t wait to have a job, though, and teach Boyfriend how to make dinner for me.