Constant Comet

     Is there a statute of limitations for childhood confusion?

     I'm asking because ...
     Well first, let me remark upon a central challenge of the columnist. You want to straddle the unique and the mundane. Share an outlook that is simultaneously unusual enough to be interesting —not just some familiar, trite truth everybody already knows. Yet common enough to be relatable. Fresh, but not strange.
     Sigh. I might as well just tell it.
     So my wife was working, at the little triangular computer table in the living room one morning this week. And I went down to get some tea, and, in my friendly fashion, asked if she wanted some.
     "Would you like some Earl Grey?" is what I said. I was having Twinings Earl Grey. I normally go for coffee, but today didn't. Earl Grey is my go-to morning tea.
     "How about some Constant Comment?" she said. Another type of tea, made by Bigelow.
     And in the next half dozen steps toward the kitchen, I reflected on Comet, the cleanser.
     When I was a child, my mother kept a green cardboard can of Comet under the sink. I would see her scrubbing various places that needed to be scrubbed.
     When I first heard the tea name, I heard, "Constant Comet." This was reinforced, I believe, by the unique smell of Constant Coment, which I didn't like. It's the spices. They make me think of vomit. Worse, it rhymes: Comet. Vomit.
     You would think, at some point, this bolus of memory would fade. And in general it has — I mean, it isn't as if it bubbles into mind every day. That would be awful. It's bad enough to reflect on sometimes. In a rare, but particular situation.
      The phrase "Constant Comet" punches a ticket, and a few seconds later the whole "Comet ... Vomit" mental train comes chugging out of its dark tunnel, down a track that was laid around 1965.

     I suppose there must be some kind of breathing, meditation trick to get rid of that. And while there are mnemonic devices to aid in memory, I have yet to find something that aids in forgetting. Well, bourbon, yes. But that train is long gone. Time, I suppose, also does the trick, or should. But when a certain memory has eluded being tackled by the ensuing years, you're pretty much stuck with it.
      Tolstoy used to say that he and his brother, as children, believed that they could have any wish they wanted if they could stand in a corner for five minutes and not think of a white bear. Which of course is impossible. Any child, taking up a position in the corner, excited about being so near to his heart's desire, would of course conjure up the forbidden pale bruin, ruining the scheme.
     So can I bury the Constant Comment/Comet connection? Only one way came to mind.

     "Honey," I found myself considering saying. "How would you feel if we stopped buying Constant Comment? Don't ask me why. There are other teas."

      No, that wasn't going to work. I'd have to explain it. Some things you just have to live with.