Cobwebs

When I was putting a jacket back in the front hall closet the other day I noticed a bunch of cobwebs back there. I cleaned them up. This is by no means a rare occurrence in our household, the stray cobweb hanging in a corner or maybe on a hanging light fixture, something that may well have been there for weeks until the light hits it in just the right way.

I wonder to what extent this is a function of our aging and just getting less attentive to this kind of thing. I also find myself wondering to what extent there's a smell peculiar to our home to which we are oblivious, as was often the case in the homes of our grandparents and kind of at the Berridges in Larchmont. Have we gotten to the age where our home has a signature scent? Or maybe just our mudroom?

Of course, we could probably manage down the risk of this kind of thing if we could just retain some professional cleaners, as indeed I've urged Mary to and as she's said at times she would. But she just can't bring herself to do it. Her parents never did. It's not the way of her people. 

Thankfully, of course, Mary doesn't read my blog. She would likely be scandalized to find me writing about this. But I've got to write about something, now don't I. The beast must be fed.