Every weekday morning I rise early (6:15... that’s early to me) to get my five year old off to Kindergarten. I am usually so exhausted that I grab the nearest pair of sweats and a tee-shirt to put on until he is safely aboard the bus and I can go about getting ready for the rest of my day. This morning the tee-shirt I happened upon was one of my husband’s and already worn.
Back in the dating days this would have been a real find. I would have reveled in a pheromone-induced stupor, fantasizing about the manliness that produced such a heady aroma. With each sniff, visions of his killer baby blue eyes and naturally muscled body would dance in my mind.
But not this morning. Today I got a whiff of myself while preparing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Gecko’s lunch and thought, to borrow a phrase of his, “Whew, stinky-winky.” My next thought was to put “do some laundry” on my to-do list for the day.
Hmm, sometime in the last twelve years I stopped finding my husband’s dirty tee-shirts enticing. How could this happen? What does it mean? A mini panic attack set in. I tried some concentrated sniffing, far from the adulterating scent of peanuts, eyes closed... Nothing. Well, nothing positive anyway.
I walked my little guy down to the bus-stop and then headed back up to the house. The tee-shirt went directly into the washing machine. While pouring a quarter capful of Tide into the machine, I contemplated love. Ok, so maybe sweaty shirts don’t smell so good to me anymore but here I was at 7 a.m. washing my husband’s clothes... that’s love isn’t it?
In my mind, I called him up at work, “Hey baby, I wore your tee-shirt down to the bus this morning and realized how much I love you.” In reality I tucked his nice fresh clothes into his drawers and thought about what yummy dish I might prepare for his dinner. Sometimes that’s just the way love goes in our house.
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