My fingers are cramped claws unable to straighten or hold my stitching needle with its usual strength and dexterity. Sometimes there is a fusillade of pain running through the nerves. And all this after only ten minutes with a metal wool scourer. I wonder how those pot-boys and scullery maids survive.

I'm glad that I do not have an expensive manicure, although I bemoan the loss of my soft hands. The bf's hands have become rougher too. No more sensitive, soft musician's hands.

Now the domestication is still a novelty. I wonder if I will enjoy housekeeping if I had to do it day after day, year after year, with no end in sight.