I remember when I first got married, a friend bought me a book about how to be a good wife. She was being cheeky: it was a well-known fact that my potential wife skills were non-existent. As a single gal, my swanky apartment had a beautiful Smeg oven that still looked brand new; I had a cleaner, as my time was spent focussing on my career or MBA (too busy to clean, darling).
There was no expectation that once I became a wife, I would suddenly turn into a domestic-muffin-making-goddess, least of all from my husband. Continue reading