【ナイトルーティン】家事センスが絶望的な主婦歴10年目女【やらかし/ミドサー/小学生/ママ/ズボラ】

Good evening, this is Marukome Omiya. I'm aiming to be a stylish madam, but I think I'm heading straight for old manhood. The following is Marukome's diary. When I was a brand new housewife, I didn't know the first thing about housework, and now, ten years later, I still don't understand anything. Even with a single vegetable, I'm still researching when to soak it in water and when to skip the process. To be honest, I don't understand the point of pre-boiling spinach in miso soup, since it's always boiled anyway. But when I look at a recipe, it obviously calls for boiling the spinach separately, so as someone with no confidence in my cooking skills, I can only silently follow the instructions. The ideal time to wash dishes is right after eating, but my full body won't allow it. Don't underestimate the suction power of a sofa when you just want to take a break. The scary thing about sofas is that once you lean against them, you can't get up. If there's one thing I can praise myself for, it's that I refrained from buying a kotatsu. Kotatsus are so destructive I don't understand why they're even legal. Having something like that near someone like me who's easily lured into such a sweet trap is no match for me. Once you're inside, it saps your motivation and energy, and could even rob you of your social skills. To me, it's a menacing presence. That's the kotatsu. One day, when my kids leave home, are able to sleep and wake up freely, and live their lives as they please, then I'll buy one. Lately, my son has been obsessed with prime ministers, and my mom is a little neurotic. Every chance he gets, he talks about prime ministers, like who the next prime minister was, and who was next in line. Every day, he recites the names of all the prime ministers, from the 1st to the 104th, like a spell. "Can You Name the Prime Minister?" starts again behind me as I write this diary entry. While I hope that this fad will die down soon, I also want to support his love of things and end up wanting to take him to the bookstore to buy a book about the Prime Minister. Perhaps that's just the way mothers are.