Okay, I know.
It’s fairly evident I have a full-time job; so technically I’m not a housewife per se.

However….
When I get home from a thankless workplace, I do have the hovel to straighten up and vacuum.
Most times, there are a few dirty damned dishes in the sink neither I nor the soon-to-be-husband of 28 years feels like washing.
The man’s bathroom in our house is a sanctuary of sorts; therefore off limits to the wife, who must selectively clean the top of the man’s toilet thing we don’t refer to as a vanity.
It contains hairs. Short ones. It also has stuff on it that looks like dried toothpaste; among other dried things.
If anyone is missing a man’s sock of any color or texture, please let me know. I probably have it.
We have a marvelous mop that we keep in a closet in “his” bathroom. That’s mainly because “he” bought it. Although it’s technically “his” mop, it’s seen a lot of action in the “not-the-housewife”’s hands.

So, the next time someone tells me I’m not really a housewife, I’m gonna hit ‘em over the head with my favorite iron skillet and tell them about the time I cooked grey underwear in a granite pot filled with bleach.
When questioned by the man as to what I was serving for dinner, I replied, “Filet of jockey shorts”.