I washed the floor on my hands and knees today and felt very accomplished…while standing in the aisle at Target studying the Pine Sol bottles.
While actually washing the floor, I only felt sluggish and increasingly angry at my dirty floors. It’s not helpful to feel angry at an inanimate object; you can not say snarky things and hurt it’s feelings. There is no satisfaction in that.
I did day dream of Joe coming home, bursting into spontaneous song at his glorious reflection in the hard wood, praising me for such a hard days work. (This is not a far off dream, because he usually notices when I’ve done something significant…yes, washing the floors is significant…I don’t care who you are, Martha Stewart!)
He did notice and yet I could not recover the glory I felt when the idea first hit me as I embarked down aisle 22. I think it was the cleaning products. They were calling out to me. We have a complicated, on again, off again relationship. I always go back to them because I love them, with their delicious smells.
I almost didn’t cook dinner tonight just so I wouldn’t cover up that amazing Pine Sol smell with Chicken Marsala.
There is something very wrong with me.