Gentle Condescension

Gentle Condescension

Our kitchen has a remarkably small amount of counter space, similar to a mid-size airstream. Now that our kid cooks, we literally have too many cooks in the kitchen. My husband freed up some space by moving the dish drain into one side of the sink. Finding the newly recovered area dim, he ordered a $25 lamp that mounts on the cabinet above. After installing yesterday, he turned it on while I was doing the dishes. Wow! The tiled wall was illuminated as never before, and boy was it filthy. Turn that light off! This was not the response he wanted.

Today, I came into the kitchen from the morning dog walk, noticed the new lamp was on and said, a bit dramatically, 

Check out the new light!

My husband replied, Did you just make light of my light?

On a roll, he re-stated with a witty precursor, Light of my life, did you just make light of my light?

I like it! I was being enthusiastic.

Well, I detected a bit of gentle condescension in your tone.

Was it an acceptable amount of gentle condescension or did I cross the line?

It was acceptable.

The Rumpled Persona

The Rumpled Persona

I was absolutely dying to take my persona off. I’d had it up to here with being polite, chipper, enthusiastic, patient, accommodating and on time. I wriggled out of it so fast I didn’t notice I’d forgotten to hang it up. 

I have to put it back on tomorrow and was disheartened to find it compressed under a pile of unaccomplished to-do-list-items and some dirty socks, probably the mates of all those single socks that came out of the laundry as an annoying bafflement.

It looks even heavier than I remembered. I wish there was a Persona drycleaner who could steam it back into something elegant and desirable, maybe stuff its pockets with a few extra witty bon mots and some sincere sounding answers to the question, how was your holidays?.

It’s not that the answer is terrible, I had a lovely holiday, it’s just that I want to be wild and free a little longer. My inner wildness is uncivilized. It doesn’t want to be seen. It wants to be in the woods. But it’s also a bit reckless, tracking mud everywhere, howling and snarling just for fun. I don’t want to get that mud on anyone I care about. I don’t want someone to accidently get snarled at.

The Persona is graceful and kind, she always wipes her feet on the doormat and greets the door opener with a smile. I would like her to greet me first, to tell me everything is going to be ok. Then I would feel comforted as I slipped her back on, knowing that while she constrains, she also prevents regret.