1. Clean your sink

Every time I clean both bathroom sinks now, I remember my maternal grandfather Robert Cunningham.  This used to happen in Mexico too, where I used one bathroom and my ex-husband used the other.  Here the boys and I use different bathrooms; whenever I am the only person to use a bathroom sink, while others use another that I have to clean, i think of Bob.

A long time ago, in his house in Santa Barbara, my brother Nick and I had used the bathroom sink (probably to wash our hands), and Bob went in afterwards.  He immediately called us in and pointed out that we had failed to rinse everything out of the basin; there were bits of soap or something that should not be there.  So we rinsed the basin, and ever since then, I’ve been neurotically conscientious about NOT leaving any residue in a sink, especially not toothpaste, which dries up and becomes encrusted, or soap scum or mouthwash, or anything else that can be easily rinsed down the drain as long as you do it right away.

For years I would clean any sink after using it, even if it was not mine, to the extent possible with the materials at hand (and resisting the urge to use people’s nice hand towels).  I don’t do that any more (usually).  I can ignore other people’s sinks, and in fact, even the sinks in my own house that are used by other people.  If I am sharing a sink with someone, I can ignore their dried up toothpaste.  (Most of the time.  As long as I do not have anything important to do.)  But I keep my own sink clean, so when I then have a fit of house cleaning, I notice the difference.  And I think of my grandfather.  (But I do not think of him when heeding the little sign present in all airplanes: “as a courtesy to other passengers, we ask that you wipe the basin….”)

It’s not that we had never been asked to clean a sink before then.  Nick and I had cleaned the bathroom sink at home, admittedly under duress, and usually with great effort (after all, we had been failing to rinse the not-yet-dried toothpaste off on a daily basis).  Maybe someone had even told us before then to rinse the basin.  But if so, it had never sunk in.

Of course, there are other things I remember about my grandfather.  But none that have stuck with me persistently over the years.  I really do think of him every time I notice the difference between my personal sink and one used by someone who does NOT rinse everything down the drain every time.

For some reason, the most insignificant comments can become engraved in my memory.  I’d like to say it was because they were particularly useful (like keeping your bathroom sink clean).  But often they are meaningless.  For example, every time I shave my legs (which admittedly is not often’ I prefer to wax), I think of my friend Stephanie.  One day I found out that she paid more attention to the back of her legs (as that is where people look) rather than to the front (the part I spent more care on, as I could see it).  Trivial, yes, but it seemed at the time to reveal an entirely spurious deep philosophical divide.  I contemplate that divide every time I shave my legs.  Maybe only 3-4 times a year, but still…

More later.