I sit on the floor. I’m not meditating. I’m confiscating. Not confiscating the air around me like meditators do, but I’m confiscating my clean floor. I restricted the area with buckets with soap and water and towels and sponges and other heavy cleaning material.
Macy walks in: ‘what are you doing?’
I say: ‘you again, go away with your what-are-you-doing question. I have no time for what-are-you-doing-missions and alike.’
Levine walks in: ‘What the hell are you doing!’
‘That is the equivalent of the what-are-you-doing-episode Macy’s running.’
‘What is that stripe on your floor and why are you protecting it like it’s something precious.’
‘I’m not protecting it, I’m removing it. And I need utter silence. Now either you get out or you shut up.’
They look at each other. They clearly do not understand the weightiness of this moment. But I recapture my concentration and focus back on the almighty stripe that’s arrogantly decorating my floor. I reach out my hand to it… ‘It looks like a chair was dragged over the floor. You have no chair in your bedroom,’ says Levine totally taking me out of my captivation.
‘I know there is no chair in my bedroom. And I know what this stripe looks like; I have removed it before, now, if you please.’
Once again I prepare myself for action.
‘You removed it before?’ asks Macy bending her head over me towards the thing before me.
‘Yes,’ I reach out my wet towel filled with soap and lemon, because maybe the sour will do it. Then a hand comes in from behind me; I hear a licking, the hand moves towards the black stain and starts scratching with a squeak. ‘No,’ says the hand, ‘it won’t go. What is it?’
‘I…don’t…know. It’s a stripe. A mark. A stain. A darn smear. An irremovable blot, spot, blotch, smudge, smear, smash…’ I start scrubbing like a fanatic.
‘Gone,’ say the hands behind me.
‘For now, yes. But you are my witnesses. This stain has now been removed. I was victorious over the almighty stripe. The omnipotent smash on my floor. You be my witnesses.’
‘That’s what this is all about?’ He points to my self-made barricade. ‘A stripe on your floor? A smear from here to here,’ laughing at his own joke.
‘It wasn’t here yesterday,’ says Macy in a grave tone, ‘I was here and I should know. I cleaned about half this room. If it was here I would have seen it.’
‘Maybe it came from a shoe? You know; with black soles.’
‘I do not have shoes with black soles,’ I say from underneath my eyebrows while I blow the hair that is hanging in front of my eyes in the air to clear my vision.
‘Stripes here keep coming back like mould on your shower curtain.’
‘Fine. If it comes back we will have a serious profound and meditative group discussion about it.’ I throw my sponge at him and it hits him right in the face. He laughs. ‘Do you have any more of these weighty and powerful occurrences in your life?’
A hard knock sounds throughout the room. Both Macy and Levine startle and lean. Wide eyes look at me. A pair each. I shrug.