Diary of a 22nd Century Housewife
This diary came to our museum’s possession via the kind donation of Hector Swift, grandson of Mary Swift and a generous patron of our organization for many years. Through painstaking effort, we have managed to transcribe the wine-stained pages for the education of our citizens. We will publish the individual entries on the centennial anniversary of their initial authorship here on this galanet site, in order to provide a more immediate connection to our storied past.
February 3rd, 2118: First day off the colony ship and oh my, am I ever so glad! I made sure to look my best for the occasion. I wore my best dress (you know, the emerald taffeta) (I won’t tell you how much I had to diet to fit that 19-inch waist!), with the pearls Freddy gave me for our first wedding anniversary, and my hair and make-up done just… so! Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Todd looked like they swallowed a frog, they were so green.
But it wasn’t all fun and games. Apparently, the robots started to malfunction the moment we landed. That includes the domesto-bots, which is trying, especially since my own – I call her ‘Aunt Jemima’, which I thought was really quite funny and Freddy agreed – wasn’t an exception. And you’ll never believe this: the powers-that-be decided that they would be fixed only after all the industro-bots had been fixed up! Can you believe that? I tried to complain about this to Freddy, but he patted me on the head and told me not to worry about it. I guess he’s right. I’m more than capable of whipping up dinner without robotic help. I never got below A+ in Home Ec.
Still, you better believe I worried. Freddy expects his dinner to be ready to moment he gets home, you see, and I hate to disappoint him. He just looks so sad. But I looked around my sparkling new kitchen (our houses were all constructed before we landed), poured myself a nice glass of red (our wine cellar is so well-stocked!), and got to work, with a smile! There was no time to cook a roast, not properly, so I did what I could with the canned tuna, gelatin, and all that FastGro Broccocorn ™ from our tidy little garden. And jeepers, if you could’ve only seen the look on Freddy’s face when he came in and saw such a spread, complete with bourbon on the rocks!
Gelatin saves the day, again!
I hope Aunt Jemima’s back with us soon, though, because this Ursarian dust really sticks in the carpets.
- Mary Swift, signing out! xoxo
PS: We have a black neighbor.
Author’s Note: I’ll write further entries of this in the future when inspiration strikes, which will probably be whenever I next read a Golden Age-era SF story. If you liked the story, or have a specific story request, please consider supporting me via PayPal. Thanks!