Our office is mostly populated with women, therefore we are prone to some subject matter during our “hen parties” that you might not find in more diverse offices.
The other day, we were discussing our mothers, and the funny things they say and do, and I recounted the story of how I once (only once) told my mother that I could tell her eyesight wasn’t what it once was because I could see dust in her house. She quickly told me to get up off my “duff” and grab a dust rag and have at it.
The evening following the conversation, I was sitting in my living room, trying to relax and watch a little television, and I realized something terrible – I have invisible dust in my home.
I know it may be hard to believe, but it’s true. I know it’s there. And I know it is invisible because no one can see it but me. Why is this, you ask? I don’t really know. Maybe I have some sort of super power that enables me to see things like dust or fingerprints or deep-down carpet dirt. I bet I could spot some fingerprints at 20 paces, too. The FBI could surely use my help.
I can also see footprints tracked across my clean floor that no one else can see. Therefore, I think I could also be of use to the military or as a hunting guide.
It’s funny how my hidden talent works, though. I can be in someone else’s house, and see the same things, and never bat an eyelash. I can even think of a thousand reasons my hostess has surely been otherwise engaged that would prevent her from cleaning up what I can clearly see on the floor, counter or table. It’s easy to ignore it at someone else’s home.
Yet at my mother’s home or at my brother’s house, I might be inclined to point out a dust bunny or two. I know that when I do, however, I will promptly be handed the proper tool to eliminate the problem. I am happy to help.
When I am out in public, I view my surroundings with even more scrutiny. If a table isn’t up to snuff at a restaurant, I am going to point it out, post haste. If a utensil is less than spotless, I will ask for another pronto. If my surroundings are, let’s just say, less than savory, I might just find somewhere else to be.
It’s both a gift and a curse. Apparently only I am capable of cleaning without being asked. I am the only person on the planet who knows the precise time to get out the dust mop, disinfectant, cleaners or other weapons of mass dirt destruction.
Guess I’ll just have to get myself a cape and a pair of tights...
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