I tend to be a far too independent female. If you tell me I can't do it, I will pull every ounce of energy to try to prove you wrong, even when I know I really can't do it. Well, maybe especially when I know I can't do it.
I get super offended when a guy in a big truck cuts me off in my mini van (of which already hurts my pride to be driving). Yes, no matter how tight Jesus and I get, I still have a tiny feminist that lives inside of me that desires to rear her ugly head every once in awhile.
But....after a tiring, stressful, although productive week at work there is nothing like coming home and doing laundry. I don't know what it is about a sparkling clean sink, a vacuumed floor or a cake still warm from the oven that makes me feel so fulfilled. It is weird. Like how much pleasure I get from an organized, dusted bedroom with fresh sheets???
Don't tell my tiny feminist, but sometimes when she is too tired from her equality campaigning to bother me, I bake like its 1955!
