I started to write a post about how I need a wife. Or a robot. Or a robot wife. But then I thought I should probably not say "wife" to mean slave, which is what I meant. I don't want to say that I want a slave. Not even a robot slave, but the reason that I wanted a robot slave was for somebody to bake me some nutritious breakfast cookies to pack in my lunch. I'm trying Erin Baker's Breakfast Cookie Minis this week, and they're not half bad. I want something still less sweet, though, with more dried fruit and nuts. I want cookies the way I would bake them, but I don't want to bake them. And I don't want to wash up baking pans.
I got halfway through imagining my Emotionally Autonomous Task Force Unit (EAT-FU) before I had to get stern with myself, because honestly I think it's unethical not to pull back from living a life that was founded on the exploitation of the underprivileged, yes, yours and mine and everyone's we know, you can only do so much about that, but you can recognize that, and you can also be less of a desiring machine and do your own work for what you want, only connect what you want to work for and what you want. Work more if you want more. Want less if you want to work less.
ETA: I gave up the breakfast cookies.
