While I was fixing lunch this afternoon, I puttered around the house, picking up this and that, setting the table, and the like. When I walked past the mirror in the dining room, I glanced at myself and thought, “Well, what do you know? I look like June Cleaver.”
I swapped out the pearls for a hair ornament and the pumps for flip-flops (well, navy loafers for church), but I certainly was rocking the vibe.
Ordinarily I would’ve changed clothes after church before I began doing anything around the house, but alas, I was stuck in my dress. I got it on just fine, but darned if I couldn’t get the thing off. My fellow dress wearers know what I’m talking about. Sometimes you get stuck, but life keeps happening.
To be honest, I was perfectly comfortable in my dress. If I weren’t afraid of ruining it, I might have kept it on even after I had a helper to extricate me from it. I find that as I get older, I wear dresses and skirts more and more while at home. They’re comfortable and cool, and I usually look put together while donning them.
Maybe June Cleaver, the other television homemakers, and the domestic workers of that era had a few tricks up their sleeves we’ve yet to discover.