This morning, I forgot my phone at home. I realized it when I was on my way to work but less than a mile from home, so of course I turned around to retrieve it. When I got back home and shut the car off, I sprinted to the front door. As I entered our enclosed porch entryway, I was greeted by the scent of lemon. I was reminded by the aroma that weekend, I had cleaned the walls and woodwork with lemon Pledge. This is something I have done regularly since reading that it repels spiders. I’m not sure if it works, but it smells good!
I unlocked our entry door and stepped into our front room, where the scent profile changed to that of Murphy’s Oil Soap. I recalled that I had also cleaned the hardwood floors and baseboards this weekend. Lovely. At this point, I feel like a Basset Hound with his head out the car window — sensory overload. I’m so awesome.
Then, I proceeded on my trek to the bedroom to retrieve my phone from the charger, passing through the living room, which I had quickly straightened before leaving for work this morning. At this point, if I were a stranger, I would be thinking,
Who is this superwoman who keeps this house so neat, tidy, and fresh smelling? And I assume, since she is not here, she works full-time. Seriously, how does she do it?
I continue into the kitchen, where the scent of the steel cut oats I had cooked this morning for breakfast still lingers with a hint of the maple syrup I used to sweeten them. You know — steel cut oats — the ones that take 30 minutes to cook? Nothing instant about them. The scent of oats and maple is gradually giving way to that of the pot roast, potatoes, and carrots I had lovingly placed in the slowcooker for dinner tonight.
She is obviously health-conscious, too — taking time out of her busy schedule of cleaning and work to take care of herself with a nutritious breakfast. And this dinner already smells divine! I wonder if her family knows the pleasure that awaits them tonight? I truly must meet this incredible woman.
Finally, I make my way to our bedroom where I notice the carefully made bed, sheets and blankets neatly tucked into hospital corners and pillows placed “just so.” The sheets and blankets, which were laundered just yesterday, still smell sweetly of fabric softener.
He who is fortunate enough to lay next to this fantastical woman is blessed, indeed! I am not worthy to breathe the same air as this mythical domestic goddess of mythical magnitude.
As I walk by the door of the adjacent laundry room, the “pleasant-to-me” scent of bleach reminds me of the whites I placed in the washing machine to soak while I am at work today. My special “whites” cocktail of boiling water, powdered dish detergent, Borax, and bleach will have these items brilliantly white by the time I return from work.
No dingy whites for her family! No — Superwoman’s family wears the whitest whites. They do not lose a moment worrying about what the EMT’s will think if they are in a car accident. The whiteness of their unmentionables is blinding. She is amazing.
As I reach the nightstand where my phone charged overnight, I reach across a pile of discarded shoes — shoes that were first selected because they were perfect for my outfit today, but ultimately rejected in favor of a pair that though slightly less perfect, wouldn’t leave my feet screaming for sweet mercy by the end of the day.
I’m going to give her a break on this — obviously, she was too busy taking care of everyone else to return these shoes to her closet. She can’t be slowed down by uncomfortable shoes. Nobody is perfect — although this amazing woman is certainly close.
Snapping back to reality, I fetch my phone and run back to the car — tripping over a pair of shoes, passing the oatmeal pan and prep dishes carelessly left in the sink this morning, through the living room where the where I spot a sock under the couch, and out the front door, covered in fingerprints. Once back in the car, it occurs to me that the whole reason I was back home at all is that in all my togetherness, I forgot my phone and now I’m going to be late for work.
Maybe she is merely mortal, fallible, and just like the rest of us.