A Housewife in Her New Modern Kitchen (1957)
For the past couple of weeks, I've been going to work again. No, I didn't grow tired of playing the happy housewife, and I'm still as committed as ever to sitting out the economic crisis. It's just that a friend needed someone to cover while she took emergency leave, I was available, and so I temporarily joined the fast lane.
I struggled a little to get organised on the first morning - too much to do in such a short period of time: wake up, have shower, style hair, put make up on, dress in suit and work heels. I had to skip breakfast to fit everything else in. I'm sure I used to be better at this...
The work was quite interesting and it was nice to earn a bit of money. The office was practically next door to a cinema, and I went in a few times after work (State of Play was particularly good).
I was knackered by the end of each day, which surprised me, as the work was much less taxing than my last job. I guess one gets used to the easy lifestyle after a while. My worst gripe, however, is that I got.blisters.under.my.toes. From wearing heels. Who would have thought that was possible? I mean blisters at the back of the foot, sure. But blisters under the toes? All ten of them? What are the chances?
I've come to the conclusion that this work thing is wildly overrated. I'm definitely not ready for it. So back to the kitchen it is. It doesn't pay, but at least I can wear flip flops.
I guess I should be thankful it's not 1957.