I hesitate to claim some camaraderie with Martha, because I've got a healthy propensity toward squandering my time. "Perfectionism" and "working too hard," those most virtuous of vices, are not among mine (and let me tell you, being the only woman in America who is flat out lazy and does a semi-moked job of pretty much everything is powerful lonely).
But I spend more and more of my kitcheny hours really feeling for the poor girl. I wouldn't have wanted to sit in the man-talk room while the day strode on toward suppertime, knowing what everyone in there expected of me (not quite everyone, turns out, but who saw that coming?). Sheesh, is there anything worse than being the tagalong female all the men wish would get lost? What would have happened at 6 if Martha had gotten it right? Was this a scenario that expired with the Ascension?
Then again, I have a Martha-ish tendency to get really mad about being the only person attending to tasks I have deemed immediately necessary, so maybe that's what this is about. Either way I'm wrong, of that I am certain.
And all this dissonance without any kids in the story! What if?!