Why did I learn to read and write?


I came across a wonderful quote some years ago, which was this:

Childbirth may shred up your vagina big time, leaving you with a new open-plan living space I like to call a VAGASS, but at least it’s not boring. At least childbirth doesn’t get you wondering why the f*ck you bothered learning to read and write in the first place. Unlike housework.

Every time I do housework, I think of it, or rather the bit about why did I learn to read and write, let alone engage in professional training and higher education, to do this?

The older I get, the more irritated I become doing housework; it feels like such as waste of life, and yet, I don’t much like dirt and mess either.

What is the answer?




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