Just a forewarning; this post doesn't actually centre around or even involve any type of alcohol at all. In fact, the title is completely unrelated.
I've reached the sudden and final conclusion that I'd be a terrible housewife. Granted, I could keep up appearances, meticulously preening myself before my my seemingly perfect, 'Honey, I'm home!' husband returned. I might even manage to suppress my feminism and succumb to living under that male-chauvinist ideology.
However, that's where any housewife potential comes to an abrupt end, for the simple reason that I don't (and won't) do housework. I'm perfectly capable of vacuuming, but the smell created by the hurricane of dust is unpleasant. The idea of washing plates that have held other people's food causes me to retch and flee the kitchen in disgust. And as for scrubbing the floors, I'd rather lick the radiator (which I once did to disprove my germaphobe reputation).
All hope is not lost, though, as I'm a good cake baker and due to my alimentary passion could probably learn to cook many other dishes. Nonetheless, I'll hardly prove 'useful' to any stereotypical I-work-you-clean man.
Of course, the main problem is that I don't really like the idea of marriage, anyway. If it's for you, then great, congratulations, many happy returns etc. but personally, it's simply two rings, a piece of paper, a white dress, some confetti and £9000 or so drained from your bank account. I believe that if two people love each other enough they don't need anything else to prove it. Also, an inordinate amount of marriages end in divorce nowadays, and that certainly isn't an appealing prospect. I suppose in a way my view of marriage is similar to Dylan Thomas'. I can't say we share opinions on alcohol, though.