Leggo my Ego

My husband's auditing a course at the university where I work so he asked me to pop over to the book store and buy his course reader since I get a piddly staff discount. SO I went downstairs to where all of the course books are and I asked the guy at the counter to help me find this reader. And he said, "oh are you the instructor?"

Huh?

And then it occurred to me that he thought I couldn't possibly be young enough to take the class. That's a fair assessment I guess. I'm mature enough to know that I don't look 22 anymore. And then I remembered that this was a graduate level course. What? I don't look 26? 30? I mean I could be getting my PhD in the Biomechanics of Hearing, you pinhead! Don't put your shit on me you misguided punk!

And that is when I had to turn on my filter and just respond pleasantly, "no, I'm buying this for my boyfriend."

I'm going to assume this flighty young man just thought I looked especially astute such that clearly I was teaching the course. A prodigy, if you will. A 24 year old professor of biomechanics. Yes, exactly.

I left the store, ego and imagination in tact.

Housekeeping

So my husband and I just finished our Tuesday night ritual of cleaning the house in preparation for our housekeeper Maria to come tomorrow and clean the house. And I love my husband for indulging me in this behavior. He thinks its RIDICULOUS but he does it anyway because he loves me and he knows that when Maria tries to put away our stuff we can't find it for a month. Last week she put our son's kitty that he sleeps with somewhere and it took us two days to find it. Put it on the bed Maria! It's a stuffed animal! Belongs on the bed! And if clothes are on the floor she'll just wash them willy nilly. Wool sweaters, linen blouses. Doesn't matter what. So every Tuesday night we put away the once-folded clothes from last week sitting on the futon in the back room that are now rifled through and wrinkled. We put all toys in appropriate bins (yes, I categorize toys. For instance, I have a transportation bin and a "makes noise" bin and if Maria puts a tractor in with musical instruments I sort of need a cleansing breath), we put in a load of laundry, I hang up whatever's on the floor in my room and then the house is ready for Maria to clean it.

But to my credit, and Maria's credit, she really does clean the place. Bathroom, kitchen, floors...and she folds a mountain of laundry. Between my son who likes to try on outfits and my daughter who likes to roll around in dirt, we have an endless mess of laundry. Plus the floors, by the end of the week, have serious "texture". My daughter likes to test gravity with her food. Future physicist.

So we do this every Tuesday. And Wednesday I come home from work to the fresh scent of Method ecofriendly cleaning products invigorated by the shine of our floors and the sparkle of the toilet bowl, ready to take on life's next challenge - like figuring out where Maria hid the kitty this week.