I would not have made a good prehistoric woman. Really. Just the thought of it freaks me out.
Having to live in a cave, wearing fur. Cooking whatever the hubby brought in from the day's battle with scary creatures.
No. I just couldn't. So, I wonder, where is my cavewoman gene. Where is that tiny gene which makes me a descendant from a very fierce and strong cavewoman? Maybe it got lost and gave up finding its way to me? Maybe it found out who it was to be passed onto and laughed and asked for a second draw?
Ok, so basically what I'm saying is that I want some cavewomanshipness in me. The grunting attitude to knock an approaching ferocious animal on the head, drag it to my cave, strip it of its skin, separate the meat (some for drying and some for cooking), and be able to make the perfect LFD (Little Fur Dress), all before the next Ice Age.
But it just sounds like so.much.work.
No comments:
Post a Comment