My Path to Volunteering at CAMP Rehoboth

The realization that I was a reincarnated 1950s house spouse came upon me this morning. Oh sure, I figured I was one as I already enjoy baking, darning socks, ironing, etc. But where was the honest-to-gosh proof? 

My hubby had just finished his shower and left the bathroom pretty much just as he found it. I on the other hand felt the spirit of June Cleaver enter me.

First off, I noticed the toilet roll was almost spent so I moved a replacement within reach. As it was difficult to get to the extra roll, I put a back-up just out of sight. Then I rehung Mark’s towel so it would dry quicker, moved the full trash can to the door so I’d remember to empty it, spotted the supply of mosquito spray and recalled we needed some in the garage (putting two aside), watered the plant, dusted the shelves, re-fluffed the guest towels, and straightened the bathmats. Only THEN did I pull back the shower curtain and proceed with my own shower.

My domestical dawning helped me to accept some of my quirks: how I cannot enter a room without straightening, dusting, or fluffing something. Even when it’s a friend’s house. Mark knows that when we enter a CVS I will end up reorganizing the shelves. Heck, that’s how I became a volunteer at CAMP. I showed up, started tidying up, and never left. Ah, bliss. ▼