Sunday, February 04, 2007
slightly feverish
Wintertime plague is making its way around... Connor has strep, the neighbor kids have had a miriade of yuck and now I have a slight fever, earache and sore throat. Argh.
But life must go on. We are re-financing and since the appraiser is coming tomorrow, I've been trying to shovel some of my crap into orderly heaps so he won't immediately assume we are a crazy cat family minus the cats.
I think my laundry is the most out of hand. We only have one small bedroom closet (Connor's room) and a weird shallow "closet" in our room with shelves in it. Couple that with waaaay too many clothes, bulging waistlines (and the delusion that we must hang on to the "skinny" clothes lest they suddenly fit) and the desire most days to do anything but laundry... you can see how this is always an ordeal.
But I digress... the point of this post is a memory. I've always been fascinated with the science of smell - the fact that it is supposed to be the sense most related to memory. I don't know if its really true or not but I believe in it.
When I do whites I'm always reminded on this boy I dated in high school. I guess "dated" is an overstatement. We hung out within a group of friends and I relentlessly pursued him, we went out a few times, we made out a bunch, we held the label of "boyfriend/girlfriend" for a few weeks and then he cheated on me. He fascinated me and I was terrified of him. He ended up marrying one of my friends when I was in college - after they had 2 kids together.
The smell of bleach on warm, clean clothes dredges up cerebral memories of the time before I actually went out with him. When I was obsessed with impressing him and daydreamed about being his girlfriend. I clearly remember going to his house one day after school.... thoroughly verboten for both of us since his parents weren't home and I was surely supposed to be somewhere else.
Some of our friends had to have been there too but I remember it just being the two of us in his bedroom for a few minutes. I was terrified and thrilled being alone with him. I lay back on his bed and he leaned over me, his hands on either side of my shoulders. His face was inches from mine, he was looking into my eyes and I could feel my heart pounding so hard. I was hoping he would kiss me but I couldn't make the first move. There was sunlight coming through the window, it was warm in the room and so quiet I could just hear the sound of our breath.
Something ruined the moment... maybe the phone rang or a car drove by or one of our friends called out from another room. Whatever it was, the magic was broken. He reached for a sweatshirt above me and the sleeve of his shirt touched my face and I could smell the bleach his mother used in his laundry. And forever after that, I think of that moment when I do laundry and pull bleach-scented whites out of the dryer.
But life must go on. We are re-financing and since the appraiser is coming tomorrow, I've been trying to shovel some of my crap into orderly heaps so he won't immediately assume we are a crazy cat family minus the cats.
I think my laundry is the most out of hand. We only have one small bedroom closet (Connor's room) and a weird shallow "closet" in our room with shelves in it. Couple that with waaaay too many clothes, bulging waistlines (and the delusion that we must hang on to the "skinny" clothes lest they suddenly fit) and the desire most days to do anything but laundry... you can see how this is always an ordeal.
But I digress... the point of this post is a memory. I've always been fascinated with the science of smell - the fact that it is supposed to be the sense most related to memory. I don't know if its really true or not but I believe in it.
When I do whites I'm always reminded on this boy I dated in high school. I guess "dated" is an overstatement. We hung out within a group of friends and I relentlessly pursued him, we went out a few times, we made out a bunch, we held the label of "boyfriend/girlfriend" for a few weeks and then he cheated on me. He fascinated me and I was terrified of him. He ended up marrying one of my friends when I was in college - after they had 2 kids together.
The smell of bleach on warm, clean clothes dredges up cerebral memories of the time before I actually went out with him. When I was obsessed with impressing him and daydreamed about being his girlfriend. I clearly remember going to his house one day after school.... thoroughly verboten for both of us since his parents weren't home and I was surely supposed to be somewhere else.
Some of our friends had to have been there too but I remember it just being the two of us in his bedroom for a few minutes. I was terrified and thrilled being alone with him. I lay back on his bed and he leaned over me, his hands on either side of my shoulders. His face was inches from mine, he was looking into my eyes and I could feel my heart pounding so hard. I was hoping he would kiss me but I couldn't make the first move. There was sunlight coming through the window, it was warm in the room and so quiet I could just hear the sound of our breath.
Something ruined the moment... maybe the phone rang or a car drove by or one of our friends called out from another room. Whatever it was, the magic was broken. He reached for a sweatshirt above me and the sleeve of his shirt touched my face and I could smell the bleach his mother used in his laundry. And forever after that, I think of that moment when I do laundry and pull bleach-scented whites out of the dryer.
// posted by Stephanie Cake @ 2/04/2007 09:59:00 PM 
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
