“Did she just say what I think she said?” That was my first thought when I overheard the remark made by “Mae,” my houseguest.
Although it occurred some time ago, it still bothers me because I haven’t decided whether it was an ambiguous compliment, a subtle insult, or an innocent thought spoken aloud while I was in earshot.
Perhaps Mae said what she said in jest, and my humor gene was on snooze. Nevertheless, when I looked at her upon reentering the room, I didn’t see a hint of a smile or a sign of embarrassment, but indifference seemed apparent.
I have debated whether to leave this issue secured in my private diary and simmer every time I reread it or vent about it on my blog and get it out of my system once and for all.
Whitney Wolfe Herd, entrepreneur and Jill of many trades said, “Life is about perspective and how you look at something; ultimately, you have to zoom out.”
I zoomed out, then zoomed in. Over time, I even considered that I may have made a mountain out of a molehill, so I hoovered over it like a drone for a while. Nevertheless, Mae’s remark irked me. What exactly did she mean?
It happened on Thanksgiving Day a few years ago. I had invited Mae and her husband for dinner. Shortly after they arrived, I left them sitting in the living room, watching a football game on television while I went to the kitchen to check on the remaining dish that was not quite done.
During my absence, Mae must have been eyeing my living room like Martha Stewart because as I was reentering it, I overheard her say, “This looks like a museum.”
Before she could shut her lips after finishing that statement, my antenna shot above my furrowed brows. Then, my meddling inner Lo-zilla whispered, “Did she have the audacity to say that your place looks like a museum? Are you going to let that go unchallenged?”
I was about to ask (politely, of course) what she meant by that remark, but before I could get the words out, her husband jumped to his feet, threw both arms above his head, and enthusiastically yelled, “Touchdown!” His wild outburst caught us both off guard, but it cut the tension like a samurai sword, and then we all immediately turned our attention to the game.
I’ve read that professionals who study human behavior will tell you that sometimes it is not what someone says but how they say it. Intonation and tone reveal emotions and thoughts. You can think one thing when you say something, but the person who hears you express that thought might receive it differently.
Take the phrase, “Get out” for instance.
“Get out!” can be said excitedly to express disbelief. “You say you hit the Powerball? Get out!” Or it can be said angrily and forcefully, indicating that I want you gone. “Get out!”
So as not to risk spoiling the rest of the day, I did not revisit the awkward moment and my guest’s ambiguous statement, but it remained superglued in my mind.
Why did I take offense? Because I don’t think my home looks like a museum. I’m not saying a museum is a bad place—it isn’t, and I like visiting museums. But there was something about the way she said it that irked me. Mae may have meant her remark as a compliment, though her tone belied that. Perspective. Perception. I was conflicted.
My home reflects my affection for black culture, especially the living room with its tranquil earth tones. Throw pillows, some with designs of varied texture and tribal embroidery, are tucked on a medium brown sofa and wide seat recliner. Plain burnt orange cushions add a splash of color. My coveted collection of African masks, art, and other cultural artifacts acquired over decades are strategically arranged on the walls, atop the bookcases, and on other surfaces. A brown, black, and taupe area rug with an ethnic theme is layered on the beige carpet in front of the couch.
This plant lover’s assortment of live and artificial green plants brings the beauty of nature indoors. One viny philodendron I’ve grown for over 15 years climbs the wall and creeps over and around two small, glossy-finished portraits of African girls near the doorway.
My home is my castle. It’s not a museum or a showplace. You’ll never find a photo spread of it in Better Homes and Garden magazine. I decorate (not really decorate, just put together) things to suit my taste and lifestyle. There is nothing high-end about it. But it is neat and clean. I could say it’s hypoallergenic if the dust bunnies would stop shooing away the cleaning fairies.
Nevertheless, it is my safe harbor. My quiet place. When I need a time-out, a temporary escape from the stressful, insane world, I close the curtains, turn on some smooth jazz, cuddle in my recliner, and escape into a good book.
Ahhh, I feel better now that I’ve vented. I zoomed in and out, and I’m letting it go.
“Perspective alone can make an experience positive or negative, but regardless of which you let it become, it can only have as much power … as you give it.” — A.J. Darkholme