|image from Kozzi.com|
You never truly realise what an awful house keeper you are until you get the brilliant idea to invite a bunch of people over for a party. And then you look around your house through the eyes of your potential guests.
I’m not talking about the 4 best friends who really don’t care that you just pushed a pile of toys and magazines and unpaid bills (and dust) off your coffee table into a basket so you could make room for the wine and chips and dip. I’m talking about your husband’s friends from work, and friends you mostly keep in touch with through Facebook (so they only see the good stuff) and other moms from school.
Suddenly I see all the marks on the cupboards and the stain on the family room carpet, and the dust. Everywhere the dust. Then there’s the toys and shoes and bags and assorted detritus of family life that cover the living room. We’ve gotten so used to the clutter we almost don’t notice it. But the guests will.
I was basically raised in my grandmother’s home. And it was spotless. Always. She was the ultimate housekeeper. And baker. And cook. Neither my mom nor I come close to measuring up to her standards of clean. But even then, I remember my mom carving out Saturday morning every week as the time to clean the house. And I did the same for a long time. As a single childless gal I did a pretty good job of the house keeping thing. Turn up the music open the windows to air the place out (in season) and clean clean clean.
But life changed, and there were things to do outside the house, and exhaustion from work and commuting, and then came kids and lessons. I got lazy.
For the record, you won’t catch any dread diseases if you visit, or even eat at my house. The garbage gets put out, the dishes get washed (in the dishwasher) and the counters get wiped down. But things like a kitchen with white cupboards and white ceramic tile floor make any dirt very visible (not my choice – came with the house). And having both a cat and a dog who shed constantly doesn’t help matters.
So, this week Hubs and I are cleaning. And he’s fixing a bunch of things on the neglected “honey do” list. For the record, he’s much more thorough with his cleaning activities than am I. He doesn’t do it any more often (much less to be truthful) but when he does, he really makes it count!
The moral of the story? I need to entertain more, not less. Then this place might stand a chance of getting a good cleaning on a more regular basis.