In my imagination, I am running a well oiled machine of a household. The table is set with a gourmet, local dinner every night. Guests are met with perfect cocktails and home made pastries upon entering, and are instantly awed by my talents.

In reality, I cook twice a week. We routinely run out of basics like toilet paper and diapers and eat off an Ikea dining table. The ice machine in my brand new Sub-Zero has been broken for a month and the repair company is still “waiting for the part.”

In my fantasy, I am the type of woman that has a kitchen full of pastries covered in these glass domes. In reality, when I do bake, I freeze the pastries and eat them at midnight standing with the freezer door still open.

Pottery Barn has some nice cloches. I have been eyeing them for a while. But I wonder if having cookies and cakes on display all week make me and husband fat? I just love how it looks: welcoming and homey.