Personal Note: Reflexive Apologetics

An old friend dropped by on short notice yesterday. I hadn’t seen him in 10 years and as he walked in I caught myself about to say, “sorry the place is such a mess.”

Why was I about to apologize?

The place wasn’t especially messy. Just normal life: dishes in the sink, papers on the table, a pile by the stairs waiting to go up or down, an unscooped cat box.

And whose voice was that in my head? It felt like me, but not me. And female. Maybe my mom’s. Maybe June Cleaver’s. Whoever it was, she was queued up to perform a ritual apology for being human instead of company-ready.

But I didn’t say it. I reminded myself: this is just how our house looks.

Then he said I looked great, and I blurted out, “well, I’ve gotten so fat.”