11 maggio 2009
Small domestic accidents
Yesterday I was in the mood for cleaning. Every now and then I get into what I call "the pulirella-the cleaningstorm": I feel an intense need for air and light to circulate better, so I start in the morning and until evening I reorganize, clean up and trash or eliminate things. I ask myself if I really do need all the objects around me, and when I found an item I haven't used for 6 months, it means I don't actually need it. So I delete it from the scene. At the end of the day the house looks quite different and near the door are piled up bags full of books, shoes, clothes, objects, videotapes, cds and anything else should be put back into circulation because could be useful to someone else. One of the things that went in the "throw it in the recycle container" area was a small glass bottle, absolutely anonymous, which I thought empty: I put it there and forgot about (it's my husband who brings paper, glass, aluminium and plastic to the collection container). After a shower, last night, I got in the sitting room and ... myyyGodd! a fragrant cloud enveloped the whole environment. I put myself into a sniff quest, without any result. So I asked my husband: "Are you smelling it?" And he: "Yes indeed, wonderful, isnt'it? I was wondering what it could be. Well, I can tell you that it's not one of yours, neither one of mine and it doesn't even come out of the box" (the "yet to try" vial box on the sofa, for our after dinner amusement). He, too, had researched without results. Then I decided I HAD to discover where it came from, and finally found that it was spreading from the kitchen. From the sink, to be precise. The detail left me completely puzzled: how does my sink deliver scent of Heaven? Then I asked him again "But... in your opinion, how can it be that our sink smells of Galaxolide, Musk Ketone and Ambrettolide?" and he replies "Uhm... don't know. I emptied there a transparent, tiny bottle. Perhaps that water smells! If you want to have a look, it's still there in the midst of the bottles for the glass recycling". That was the answer. One of my musk experiments from few months ago left aside because I didn't find it as interesting as I hoped. Few weeks of aging must have had it evolve into something mystical. The "pulirella-cleanstorm" had made me throw it away without recognizing it; my husband, checking the bottles were just empty, had thrown the remainings in the sink. This morning the house was still wrapped in the heavenly aroma of musks, and I hope it remains there for a while. The moral of the story? Patience. Again and as always, I must learn to have patience.