Vitamin Clean

Clean - the noun. It haunts me like a speckle-toothed specter, gliding into each room before I arrive and pointing its cobwebby fingers at the evidences of my neglect. Closets bulge, regurgitating their contents into halls, bedrooms, and beyond. Wadded socks repose in odd places - beneath the exercise bike, behind the toilet, convened on the front porch like a coven - condemning me with their presence. Dust bunnies multiply in both number and size. Carpets collect clippings, crumbs, and unidentified hairs.

And the fridge - oh, the fridge. My constant companion, an odiferous necessity that wafts warning whiffs to all who approach. As I contemplate this offending appliance, I realize that clean is the antithesis to my world. A continual reminder of my sub-par status as homemaker, clean exists as a dream I'll surely never achieve. Clean creates in me a desire to be more ... and a crippling fear that I can't. Clean condemns my messes and robs me of motivation to contain them.

But the other clean -- clean, the verb -- came calling today, too. Unexpectedly, my fridge experienced a transformation under the capable hands of my spouse. Defrosting. De-icing. De-stinking. De-staining. He labored for hours at his job, presenting me witHh a spotless end product to refill. I stared in awe, giving special attention to the scent-absorbing coffee grounds he'd installed on one shelf.  My perfectionist heart gave several thumps of delight; my gratitude meter dinged FULL. Humbled, I realized that while I had been hoping for the noun clean to transform my life, my husband had lived out the verb, providing me with a gift of service that meant more than all the dust bunny-free floors in the world.