I have had an epiphany. Fairy tales aren't things that happen to other people; they happen to us when we least expect it, sneaking up and claiming us piece by piece until one day we turn around and realize .. I am the Soap Fairy!
I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I suspect it happened when I negotiated with my husband waaaaay back at the beginning of our relationship over who would do which household chores. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would not be leaning over a toilet, scrub brush in hand, laboring to make that ceramic sparkle. So I conceded that point, and instead got his firm commitment to forever keep filled the salt and pepper shakers, a task I disliked intensely when we still used ground pepper. Its a lot easier now with peppercorns and much less sneeze inducing.
It falls within my purview to ensure that the contents of the pretty clear bottles aside the sinks of the Neuman house are filled with soapy goodness, ready at the whim of the occupants. It's a mission I take on in the hopes of transforming the hand-washing and showering experience into a little piece of magic in the day.
To do this, I spend quite a bit of time opening bottles of soap in the grocery store and giving them a whiff. Is this something we'd both like to smell? Is "mountain meadow" manly enough for my man? He doesn't get all bent out of shape over what is or is not masculine, so I find the bottle of rosewater soap beside my sink disappears just as fast as if it were avocado bamboo or whatever took my fancy as I stood in the store and let the smells transport me away .. kinda.
So today .. I am the soap fairy and he is master of the peppermill. We're both good with that sort of mundane magic.
You guys are cute :)
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