Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Selective Vision

After recruiting DH to scrub out our kitchen sink, I bemoaned his selective vision.  He had been utterly unaware of the awful color that our supposedly cream Corian sink had taken on from too much food left sitting too long.  I already knew he did not see dirt the way that I do.  I am sure he has never noticed the dust on the floor moldings, and I am the only one in the house to be bothered by the piles of dust on the ceiling fans.  Part of it is that he is a guy.  Another factor is his poor eyesight.  Although we both wear glasses, mine came along later in life.  He can see well enough to work, but maybe the prescription doesn't quite show all the stuff around the edges that I see.  Also, he has very little sense of smell.  If we pass a skunk on the highway, DH can only tell by the rest of up complaining--lucky him!

DH once asked me if my very acute sense of smell (I smell mildew on clothing when no one else in the house does) has brought me more happiness or irritation.  I have to admit, most of the time when I notice a smell, it is not a pleasant one.  I think I need to start wearing perfume, even if DH can't smell it, just for myself.

Anyway, I was grousing at him that it wasn't fair that he, who cared less about such things anyway, got to live in a much cleaner house than I do.  Even though we live in the same house, because he can't see the dirt, can't smell the garbage, and overall is oblivious to the decay around him, has a sense of being in cleaner environment than I do.

His response, while acknowledging this was true, was to point out that he lives in a much more cluttered house than I do.  Which is true.  I can step over and ignore many piles of things, so long as they are clean.  Not that his greater awareness of the clutter motivates him to clean it up or anything...but it bugs him.

Fair enough--if I have to live in a dirty house, at least it's not as cluttered as his.  Sigh.  The little things that make life worth living....


  1. I can't believe that you don't see the clutter to the point of distraction. I thought it was a man thing. I always called it "Man Look." Another blogger -- Playgroups -- told me her name for it is "Male Pattern Blindess." I'm now going to use that.

  2. I was raised by a packrat, so piles of things around me just seems normal.

    I have worried in the past about raising packrat children, as I see it as a flaw in myself. I have thus far failed to create the sterile, tidy environment needed to teach my offspring that clean is normal.

    Sigh, I can't even claim that this is a genetic trait beyond my control. Since I am adopted, I can't claim to have inherited the clutter gene from my mother.

    On the other hand, my husband's parents were very neat and orderly, but both their children are less so in their own households. Looks like nurture alone isn't enough either.

    Perhaps slovenliness is a recessive gene that is only expressed when 2 slobs marry...

  3. That sounds oddly like a few couples I know. Namely me and my wife...My parents and from what I remember of Grandma's kitchen table, your parents.

    My father also keeps everything and I can see myself doing it. At the house I pulled some nails from the wall, and we both said..."it's not bent up, keep it."

  4. Funny, I've always assigned the clutter/packrat status to your grandmother, but you are right--Gunny had coffee cans full of old nails in the garage too.

  5. The Nails are now in our garage.Hope you were not cleaning on Tommy's account.He,like us is also afflicted,and wouldn't notice.


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