'Avengers: Endgame' makes you consider your own superpower

Maureen Feighan
The Detroit News
Jeremy Renner, Don Cheadle, Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Karen Gillan, Paul Rudd and Scarlett Johansson in "Avengers: Endgame."

Watching superheroes battle it out to save the world in the record-breaking "Avengers: Endgame" last weekend -- a movie so long that I needed to take not one, but two, bathroom breaks -- it hit me. My husband has his own superpower.

It's a type of X-ray vision that allows him to overlook any dirt, mess or pile in our house. He just sees right past it likes it's not there. It's a gift.

My dear husband is awesome with our kids, makes a mean Asian meatball (key ingredient: fresh ginger), has a wicked sense of humor and is great about helping out with errands.

But ask him if he's noticed the sauce that now coats our entire cook-top with a thick, gooey covering or the pile of dog hair that's now created a nest under our coffee table and he's dumbfounded.

"Did you see that sauce?" I'll ask, pointing to the four-inch circle of goo that's turned into a pizza-like crust on one of our burners, surrounded by dozens of even tinier red splotches, all of which will likely take a good sponge and a lot of elbow grease to remove.

"What sauce?" he'll ask.

It's the X-ray vision.

The same X-ray vision applies to unmade beds, school papers that cover our kitchen counter and laundry that's been sitting in the dryer for three days, waiting for someone to fold it.

I wish I had the ability to not see things that need to be done. I can't "un-see" the grime now covering the moldings along the floor in our bathroom or piles consuming what was once the top of our entire dryer. And the dog hair under the coffee table will hound me until I get up to sweep it up.

And while I'm totally capable of ignoring laundry for several days, at some point your kid has to wear clean pants to school. And socks.

Long before we got married, my husband's X-ray vision was so strong when it came to his own laundry that he found a solution to the clean clothes conundrum. He simply bought new ones when he ran out. Problem solved.

I have my own superpower. It's called Extra Strength Over Thinking.

Give me a problem to mull or a situation to stew over and I will over-think it to epic proportions. There's a mole on my neck? It's definitely cancer. My daughter had a bad night sleeping? She'll never sleep well again. A friend ignored a text? She hates me.

My over-thinking is so powerful -- imagining all the things that could go catastrophically wrong in the course of any given day -- that I'm certain that I could power an entire island country with my worrying. If only I could find a way to harness that over-worrying.

My mom is not a worrier. And neither is my husband. I marvel at their abilities to take things as they come and not jump to conclusions. I realize that worrying serves no one -- including me -- and won't change the outcome of any event. And yet, it's my superpower. I can't shake it off.

But in some way, over-thinking is my strength. It helps me consider every possibility and prepare for it. And X-Ray vision is certainly my husband's. He's always thinking about the big picture (minus the laundry and piles of clutter). 

Neither power will ever arise to "Avenger" status, but you are who you are. And that's super in its own way.