“Whew!” Dorothy said as she collapsed on the couch. On the parallel couch, her husband, Rodger, looked up from his laptop as it was obvious his wife desired some kind of attention. He waited to see what the cause of her exclamation might be.
“I just scrubbed that dang bathroom from top to bottom, I’m beat!” she said, a little out of breath. A bead of sweat cascaded down her hairline and fell onto her collarbone.
“That’s great honey, I know you’ve been trying to get to it for a few days now,” Rodger smiled and, believing his husbandly duty done, returned his attention to the computer screen.
Allowing herself to sink further down on the couch and then tilting over to a horizontal position she believed better reflected her fatigue, Dorothy waited for her husband to notice her again. Finally, after almost five minutes of his ever-astounding obtuseness, Dorothy sat up and said, “Will you go look at it?”.
Rodger stifled an annoyed sigh and looked up from his computer. “You want me to go look at the bathroom?” he said with as much restraint as he could manage. Sometimes his wife completely baffled him.
Nodding, Dorothy shot him a look that reminded him of how his youngest sister, Connie, used to look at their father when she wanted something when they were children. And, just like his father had with his sister, Rodger felt his reason dissipate as the stronger desire to please his wife took front and center. “Of course babe, I bet is a gleaming beacon of cleanliness and uh… and prettiness?” Rodger had never really been good with compliments… at least he was trying though. Dorothy had been the first female he had met that actually made him want to try at all that sensitivity hookity-muck.
Putting his laptop on the coffee table, Rodger stood up and, after pecking a quick kiss to the top of Dorothy’s head, disappeared down the hallway and into the master bathroom. Expecting him to take a quick inventory and reemerge a minute or two later, Dorothy grew curious after her husband failed to return after a good fifteen minutes. Wondering what on earth he could be doing back there, Dorothy scooted off the couch and as she walked towards the bathroom called, “Rodger dodger? Hellooooo… what are you doing back here?”.
Just as she rounded the corner, Rodger jumped out of the bathroom and blocked her way. “What is going on back here?” Dorothy asked suspiciously, trying to peek over his shoulder and into the bathroom.
“Ummm… nothing, what, uh… what do you mean?” Rodger replied unconvincingly as he tried to hide a soiled paper towel behind his back. Folding her arms and pegging him with a ‘yeah right’ stare, Dorothy skirted past him and stopped abruptly at the threshold of what had been her just-cleaned bathroom.
“What in the world happened in here?!?” Dorothy screamed. While a portion of the floor and sink had been recently wiped down, her husbands’ efforts no doubt, the rest of the master bathroom was covered with dirty smudges- the floor, the tub, even the mirror hanging about the sink had been sullied.
“Uh, well sweetie,” Rodger said from behind her left shoulder, “we must have left the bedroom window open and it looks like Smokestack had some fun in the mud from last nights’ rain and, well, I guess he decided to clean off in here” he said hesitantly. Smokestack, their ten-year-old cat, so named not only because of his sooty coloring and amber eyes, but also because of his habit of rolling in dirt, mud, sand- anything really, had really outdone himself this time. Looking closer, sure enough, Dorothy could make out little kitty paw prints among the grimy streaks.
“I don’t know, I kinda like it like this,” Rodger joked and gave his wife an affectionate nudge. “It’s got that whole, what’s the phrase, lived in feel, don’t you think?” He finished with a chuckle. Husband and wife shared a laugh at that and then, both grabbing a sponge, set to work erasing Smokestack’s handiwork.
The Not So Fantastic Reality:
The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:
ONE: Finally! Something off of my To-Do list! My bathroom is now so sparkling, so shiny, so clean I almost wanted to take a few pictures of it… almost (I mean, it is a bathroom after all). After scrubbing and wiping and vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing some more (Soap scum is a bitch) my master bath is now clean. Not only that, I actually went the extra mile and organized it, ooooo, ahhhhh…. Well, just as I was finishing up the shower and returning the cleaning products, I returned to find my moments-ago spotless sink covered in some sort of brown residue. Upon closer inspection, I came face to face with the culprit- a moth. The poor little critter had somehow found his way inside and in swan dive of sorts came to his end in my sink… after much flapping around apparently since my sink was covered in brown smudges from his wings as he plinked off the sides of the porcelain. Normally, I would feel really bad for the doomed insect, but after spending hours scouring every inch of that bathroom, let’s just say Sam was not in a very sympathetic mood. The incident got me thinking, and thanking my stars that it wasn’t something bigger (or nastier) than a little brown moth. Easy enough to clean up at least. Next up on the list… laundry. Le sigh.
Love & Squirrels.