The Spot

My grandma was a very bossy woman. I still think she should have enlisted in the military; she would’ve made one nasty drill-sergeant. My family and I had been living with her for a whole year now, waiting for our latest remodeling project to end. Nothing went on in my grandma’s house that wasn’t monitored by her ever-watchful eye. And nothing was ever done anybody’s way but hers.

The house was a decent size, but it always seemed small and cramped. Collecting junk was an all-consuming passion for my grandma, and any empty surface was quickly piled high with her 99-cent treasures. As my friends took to saying, Karen's grandma has everything. But no matter how much clutter she accumulated, my grandma was ever vigilant about cleanliness. She cleaned the house everyday; vacuumed every carpet, dusted every nook, and scrubbed every floor. Yes, my grandma forever prided herself on keeping a clean house.

Naturally, no speck of dirt, however small, could every escape her watchful eyes. My mom always told me to apply all my makeup in the bathroom. I must admit I got a bit lazy sometimes. Somehow or other, I got a bit of eye shadow on the carpet in my bedroom. I had no idea I’d dropped some on the floor, so I just walked out the door and went off to school. My dad headed off to work, and my mom and grandma were left alone.

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on a bit of toast, when my grandma came bursting in, worked up into a rage.

“There’s a spot on the carpet in Karen’s bedroom!” She said the word as if it were the most loathsome thing on earth.

“Wa?” my mom mumbled through a mouthful of bread and jam.

“I said there’s dirt on the floor in Karen’s bedroom!” She was on the verge of hysteria.

“Oh,” my mom said nonchalantly, returning to her breakfast.

“You have to see it!” my grandma demanded, continuing her rant, “I don’t know what it is, but it’s bad!”

“I’ll take a look at it later,” my mom said calmly.

“It’s bad,” my grandma muttered under her breath as she scuffled out of the room, “bad!”

My mom sighed and munched thoughtfully on her meal. She’d check on the spot after breakfast.

An hour later, my grandma was screaming at the telephone receiver in the den. She would be there for at least half an hour. Mom went to investigate the horrid spot on my rug.

“Makeup,” she determined quickly. “Better get this mess cleaned up.”

As she stood in front of the garage cabinet filled with house cleaners, an idea suddenly hatched in her mind. This was her chance, while my grandma was still on the phone. With a quick glance over her shoulder, my mom snatched up the rug cleaner and wrapped it in a dirty rag towel. She tiptoed quietly past the door to the den. As she passed by, she could hear my grandma shouting, “Let me talk to your manager!” She was just getting started.

Mom dashed into my room and set about attacking the makeup I’d so carelessly dropped on the carpet. It came up almost instantaneously. Breathing a sigh of relief, she snuck back out to the garage and returned the carpet cleaner.

She went about her business for the rest of the day, running errands, shopping, and doing whatever else stay-at-home moms do to fill their time. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that my grandma remembered the spot.

My mom was sitting at her computer, looking up some directions to who knows where.

“Look at that spot!” my grandma demanded, bursting into the room. “Have you seen that spot?!”

She’d worked herself into a frenzy, once again.

“I’ll go take a look at it now.” My mom got up calmly from her desk, and strolled casually into my room. My grandma trailed closely behind her.

“Now where was it?” my mom asked, pausing in the doorway.

My grandma, eager to show her the dreaded speck of dirt, pushed her way into the room.

“It’s right he-” She froze mid-accusation and stared, flabbergasted, at the floor. She looked around slowly in a puzzled manner.

“I thought it was right here…” she said, frowning.

“Was this it?” my mom asked sweetly, picking a speck of red fuzz off the carpet and holding it up.

My grandma’s eyes grew wide. “Oh,” she said slowly, examining the speck, “Maybe it was just a piece of fuzz.”

She shook her head in astonishment. “Hmmm,” she muttered to herself, “I guess it was just a piece of fuzz.” Mumbling quietly to herself, she turned around briskly and shuffled out the door.

The instant she’d left the room, my mom collapsed in a fit of laughter. My grandma hadn’t even protested or put up a fuss; she’d just walked out.

My mom was seized by another burst of laughter. She’d tell my grandma the truth later. But for now, it was a good thing her hearing aid was broken.