I’m married to a rather brilliant woman. (Her decision to marry me refutes this only in the minds of some in-laws.) Have been for 22 years. We built a business together. Experienced feast and famine, ebb and flow. Brought three kids into this world and are now raising three teenagers. One graduates high school next week.
Through all of this time, I’ve never questioned her sanity. Until this afternoon. I wandered downstairs from my air-conditioned writer’s garret. (Actually our bedroom which is the only cooled room in the house.) Passing the dining room I heard my wife’s voice, "I’m mayoing the table, dear." Pardon? "I’m applying mayo to the table."
Now this mahogany table is dear to my wife. She purchased it from a junk shop many years ago. Against my wishes, no less. "It’s veneer," I stated forcefully. It wasn’t. And in refininishing, it’s solid beauty was revealed.
Perhaps the heat had gotten to her, I thought. I watched her rub the mayo lovingly into the wood. "I read it on the Internet", she said. "The mayo removes white heat marks." I looked closer at the table. "See how the marks are gone." They were indeed. Mayo for the table. Who knew.