The Queen was quite pleased with herself.  She had spent the day in the kitchen. She swept the floors and mopped them with magickal herb water. She scrubbed all the neglected nooks and crannies of the stove with a toothbrush, making it shine. Then she bleached her sink and deodorized the garbage pails with fresh lemon from her tree in the garden. She cleaned her cabinets and countertops with lavender water.  The room was gleaming and spotless.

She organized all of her recipes into a pretty book, and marked her favorite dishes to fix for her family the following week.  She got her big red stockpot from atop the refrigerator and started a huge batch of home-made stock. “Vegetable soup will be perfect tomorrow; rain is forecast and soup always tastes better when it’s rainy outside.”  For tonight, she was fixing a sausage casserole, accompanied with Brussels sprouts seasoned with bacon and spiced vinegar.  The house smelled delicious already.

She lit the red candles in the windows, and, feeling contented, sat down for the first time that day.

When the little Prince came home from school, he dropped the junk mail on her spotless counter, dumped is Coke in the sink, leaving it brown, and leaned over the bubbling stock pot. “Eww, that stinks,” he declared. “And you know I hate Brussels sprouts.”  He stomped up the stairs to his room without another word to the Queen. 

“Oh well, boys will be boys,” she sighed, rinsing the dregs of his Coke down the sink and shredding the junk mail.

Then the King arrived. He dumped his lunch bag on the table, next to her vase of roses. Giving her a peck on the cheek and grabbing a quick feel-up, he headed into the next room to turn on the TV, leaving a trail of muddy footprints across her pristine floor.

“Fuck the domestic goddess,” thought the Queen. “Tomorrow I’m going to the movies.”