Uncooked Rice: The Beginning

I always though being domestic would come naturally to me. My mom has excelled in all those areas, and having been around it my whole life, I just assumed it would be as easy to me as it appears to be for her.

Ha, ha. What was I thinking? Though I have domestic aspirations, I am anything but domestic! Here's a smattering of what has happened over the last week we've been in our apartment together.

1. Laundry: I have yet to understand how the dryers work in our complex. I spent over 8 hours trying to do 4 loads of laundry earlier this week. (There are 6 washers and dryers, so it's not like I was waiting to put more loads in.) I also closed the dryer door with some clothes still sticking out on accident, and created the most massive knot of wet clothes I've ever seen in my life.
2. Sleeping: I always considered myself to be a good bed-sharer. But, since I've been married, I've managed to steal J.'s covers almost every night, and even drop my elbow directly into his eye socket in the middle of the night. J. just moaned and rolled over, but I, being incredibly amused about this at 4am, started laughing hysterically for the next 10 minutes, keeping both J and myself awake.
3. Personal Space: Not only do I injure J at night. I think I'm not used to being so close to someone all the time. Everyday at least once, I bonk, or run into, or step on J. Earlier this week we were standing next to each other and I was pointing something out directly in front of us. Unbeknownst to me, instead of pointing forward, my hand started pointing to the side, and I basically stabbed J in the cheek with my long, wedding-groomed fingernail, leaving a swoolen read stripe across his cheek. Another time, in effort to turn around, I came around with "the claw" and clawed him in the eye with my fingers. He's surprisingly good natured about all of the wounds inflicted on him.
4. The Kitchen: I'm good at baking, and can almost always make something good without much effort. But ever since I've become Mrs. Pascual, my kitchen skill seems to have gone out the window. Two nights ago, I tried to make homemade pizza dough. The yeast never rose, so we had hard, crunchy crust. My moment of glory, was when I tried to make the first casserole I've ever made (apparent southerners like casseroles). The recipe called for "3/4C. raw rice, cooked." But I, having some tendencies toward being unobservant only saw "3/4C. raw rice." So, I poured 3/4C raw rice on top of the chicken, broccoli, and cheese, hoping it would cook in the 1/2 hour it was in the oven (without any water). Needless to say, we had a crunchy meal. And Jonathan, having eaten rice his entire life, was definitely less than satisfied. He, as usual, was very understanding about it though.

Fortunately, I'm pretty good at cleaning, and REALLY good at having fun. It's all a great adventure that we're both loving so far!