Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I Scrubbed Away "Soap Residue Jesus." OR: Why St. Peter Will Turn Me Away, Reason #3547
Many years down the road, when I arrive at the pearly gates, the conversation will go something like this.
St. Peter: Okay, looking through your file, everything looks pretty good. Except... Wait just a second. Did you really scrub away the image of Jesus from your shower wall?
Me: You mean...the soap scum ?
St. Peter: Have some reverence. Please. Soap residue.
St. Peter: It says here that the image of Jesus in Da Vinci's Last Supper appeared to you on your shower wall, and you... You just scrubbed it away.
Me: But...but...but... You don't understand! It wasn't my fault! My mother-in-law was coming!!!
You see, what happened is this: Christmas is being held at my house this year. Which means that my husband's family, plus various and assorted other players, will be descending on my house for up to two or three days at a time starting Dec. 20 and ending Dec. 27.
I hate this. (Note: I am NOT saying I hate them. I love them. It's everything else I hate.) I am not an entertainer. I am not a hostess. I am not a cook, or a decorator. What I am is an introvert. If the world ended tomorrow and everyone disappeared but me and my husband and kids, it would take me at least three days to notice, and that would just be because nobody was leaving comments on the other site I write for. If the evil force that took away the world assigned bots to automatically leave comments, it might take weeks.
But because I love my husband and family, I'm working at being a good sport about this. Which means that I'm spending a lot of time this week a) scrubbing my toilets and figuring out my "self-cleaning" oven, and b) trying not to throw too many hysterical tantrums. Which is how I ended up taking the advice of a woman I once knew, who said that when she wants to relax, she locks herself in the bathroom with soft music and a glass of wine.
So that's what I did.
So I'm lying there in the steamy bath, relaxing, thinking about the fact that I have to scrub down the shower walls before anybody comes. And, then my eyes fall on a spot I missed the last time I did the chore. It was kind of an inverted V of white -- you can see the swipe of the sponge going off in either direction, on both sides of the spot I missed. But the problem is that you can't see what you've missed till it's dried, and I'm not nearly enough of a perfectionist to go back afterwards and do the job again to get it right. So that's the way it's stayed.
But as I sit there staring (after a glass of wine and with my glasses off,) I see that there is a definite resemblance to Da Vinci's "The Last Supper." There's a horizontal strip of white, like the table cloth. And above the table cloth are roundish drops, like heads. And stuff has dripped from the drops, kind of diagonally. Like arms. And robes. I'm not kidding. It was actually pretty cool.
And then the wine was gone and the bath water was cold, so I got out and had dinner and went to bed. And then this morning I scrubbed the shower surround, top to bottom. And it was only later that I realized I'd scrubbed away Jesus.
I hate when that happens.
So here's how I'm hoping the rest of the conversation will go:
Me: But...Christmas was coming! And we're hosting! And...and... I was stressed! *sigh* I'm sorry.
St. Peter: Fear not, my child. We're very forgiving up here. I understand.
Me: You do? Oh! Thank you!
St. Peter: If it had been me, though?
St. Peter: I would've sold it on ebay.