How Public, like a Blog

I'm nobody, who are you?
Are you nobody too?
...How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a blog

My apologies to Miss Dickinson. I'm starting this as an experiment and as the heading says, a confessional. Experiment, since probably every blogger since the advent of blogging has wondered, "will anyone read this? Am I really a good enough writer to be interesting to people besides my parents a couple of times a week?" Confessional since this is intended to be a meditation on the domestic life (with sidelines into art, design, books, and cheap food in the Seattle area.) I suspect that all too frequently it will be a meditation on my failures at domesticity.

My qualifications? I told one of my fellow design students, "I'm a good cook and I'm not even bothering to be humble about it." Currently, I'm a really good cook on a really tight budget. It lends itself to a certain amount of creativity. On the other hand, I am a less than stellar housekeeper, and that is seriously understating the case. Life is school, friends, my own projects, and books. Vaccuuming doesn't make the list. Apparently this week, taking out the recycling didn't either. A tidy apartment and a neatly made bed are among the comforts available to me. I ought to take advantage.