“I’ve tried everything women are supposed to do—hobbies, gardening, pickling, canning, being very social with my neighbors, joining committees, running PTA teas. I can do it all, and I like it, but it doesn’t leave you anything to think about—any feeling of who you are. . . . I’m a server of food and a putter-on of pants and a bedmaker, somebody who can be called on when you want something. But who am I?”

The underlined words and phrases in the excerpt most contribute to a tone of