I have super powers. I see things not visible to mere mortals. Because only I can see these things, responsibility for them falls on me – and it is a great weight to bear.
I envy B, my husband. I see all the things he cannot, no matter how small. Every day, I desire his unburdened life. The tumbleweeds of dust, hair and lint are invisible to him when he walks the landscape of our hardwood floors. B sees no need for the vacuum. Countertops are always gleaming in his eyes. Only I see the stubble and little hairs around the bathroom sink, and the crumbs on the kitchen peninsula. I would think he is confused by the containers of disinfecting wipes kept in both places, but I don’t believe he sees them.
B thinks I’m crazy, but super heroes are often misunderstood and underappreciated. He looks at me and sees only his wife, wielding a dust pan and brush, and muttering. I know the things I see are real. They speak to me and the message is clear: Only my time and energy can clear these things from view, and keep them from disrupting someone else’s schedule or serenity. Only I have the power. That’s what I say when confronted by the overflowing laundry hamper.
And B wonders why only I have clean clothes during the week.