These are the words that Julius Caesar said as he crossed the River Rubicon on January 10, 49 BC, officially leading his army into the civil war over control of Rome.
Today, I crossed the Rubicon. Firs,t I bought a large Yankee Candle without consulting Aaron. Then, I came home and lit it.
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| This is what a lit jar candle looks like on a cell phone camera. I had to capture the moment. Look at those high-def apples though. |
Our house doesn't quite smell right. It's an old duplex, with industrial tile floors, white walls, and almost-Soviet windows that don't let much light in. When I light candles or spray air freshener, there's not much for the scent to cling to, so it goes back to a cold musty smell. Any cooking scents stay in the closed-off kitchen and they mostly disappear within a little while.
The only scent that does seem to linger is cigarettes. Each morning, we get to smoke breakfast with the people on the other side of the duplex, who have a well-established routine. Once the smoke clears and I can go back into my kitchen, they have another cigarette or two. I imagine they gather their chairs directly under the vent, toss their heads back, and exhale directly into our wrongfully-shared ventilation system. It's a service they provide.
The housing office came by to re-seal the outlets and the cabinets. They fixed a door-sized hole in the duplex firewall, so at least we don't have a full-on cloud in the house. We still get to smoke every meal, snack, and social event with the people next door.
We don't eat in the kitchen much.
So this is what led me here, to the Rubicon.
Aaron likes things to smell good. I like things to smell good. He wants things to smell like beachy, rainy, men's deodorant, and laundry detergent stuff. Or vanilla. And pumpkin or pine trees when the seasons call for it. That's cool and all, but I think kitchens should smell like apples or pears and bedrooms should smell like lavender. We go into Yankee Candle every once in a while, because we want to buy something for the house, but the conversation goes like this:
One of Us: "Mmmmm, this one! I like this one! Here, smell this." (sticks jar top under the other's nose to get a less obnoxious scent of the candle)
The Other: (breathes deeply) "What IS that? Ugh, that's just... wrong. Here, smell THIS one!"
The First: (checks jar) "You've got to be kidding me. That's just... ugh..."
And then we don't buy anything. We walk out into the mall and we don't talk about Yankee Candle anymore. We go back when they have a sale, but we just repeat this process.
Every single time, I bring up Macintosh apple, because it is the best scent in the world and I think my kitchen should smell like that. Every single time, Aaron gamely smells the Macintosh candle and then shows me some blue or tan candle that smells like men's soap. Smelling that Macintosh candle each time really means "I love you." He just would never buy one or, you know, drive me home from the mall if I decided to buy one.
Today, my dumb tail took the kids to the post office. Then, we went to a store to get Audrey's big girl booster seat. After that, we were planning to go to the grocery store where I planned to stay as close to the list I hadn't really created, or at least just get the essentials. The kids were so excited to be out of the house, but were getting into Dangerous We Haven't Napped Territory before we finished dropping off boxes at the post office. I had already shared at least three cigarettes while cleaning the kitchen this morning and was dutifully repeating my basic list to avoid any major grocery mishaps. This felt like enough suffering/self-sacrifice that I felt perfectly entitled to a little trip to the Yankee Candle display, toting a booster seat and two grumpy kids.
I searched for some blue/white/tan/sand/rain/grass/soap BS, I really did. I debated each one while Audrey made towers out of the little floaty candles on the floor, shifting my feet and chewing my lip while I narrowed down the choices, stopping to put Audrey's candles away and convince Sebastian that he didn't need an energy drink. I settled on one, changed my mind, tried to figure out what was Aaron-approved and good for the kitchen and the cigarette smell, started the process over.
Then it hit me: two people, two candles. I picked Macintosh. Aaron got the green Meadow Showers. We'll light that in our room and the rest of the dang house if he wants, but so help me, my kitchen is going to smell like a Macintosh apple.
And I'll burn it right under the vent so the neighbors can share it with me at every meal, snack, or social event. And if Aaron wants to fight me, Julius Caesar, for smell-control of this little half-duplex Roman Empire - well, we'll just see how that turns out.
I mean, I already lit the candle.
The die is cast.
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