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I resisted the genetic urge to make the house pristine. Yes, genetic; though evidently it weakens with each generation. My mom’s mom is a cleaner. That house was always spotless, even with the raising of four children, and visiting of grandchildren. Even now, her tiny assisted living apartment is kept amazingly clean for a woman of her years. When I was little and the grandparents were coming for a visit my mother always went into some sort of cleaning convulsion. She worried, she fretted and she cleaned. And still, on the day of the visit it would not be clean enough…there was no matching my grandmother’s abilities.
My early years of having my own place, be it apartment or home, were much the same. Any visitor prompted a whirlwind of straightening and scrubbing. I wanted it to look like Better Homes & Gardens, I wanted to be Martha. I suppose I did a fair job of it…when someone was looking…but the rest of the time it was passable or downright chaotic depending on the day.
When D moved in there was an initial burst of activity to prove I could be a good housewife, but once I realized he really wasn’t paying attention I eased up on the accelerator. I still clean of course, and he helps. Sometimes its ‘guy clean’ and sometimes ‘girl clean’ but it’s rarely the ‘company clean’ that my grandmother aspired to every day.
My mom arriving this afternoon the house is just passable. Her room (my sewing room) is as clean as it gets – translated: vacuumed, dusted, and semi organized (for gawd sakes don’t open a drawer!) and the guest bath is spotless (unless you open the linen closet). The kitchen is as clean as it gets considering I cooked last night, and the living and dining rooms are straight, but cluttered with all the stuff I drug out of the sewing room closet so she could hang up her things. Master bedroom and bath? Probably better if she doesn’t go in there at all. The miracle is that I’m ok with that…you could come visit and I’d still be ok, I’d even let you write your name in the dust on master bedroom TV screen. My days of being freaked out if any one learned I was not only mortal, but lived in my house seem to have passed. Whether its wisdom or laziness I do not know. Either way it is ultimately a good thing. Like my dad says “people aren’t coming to see your house, they are coming to see you”.
It’ll be a little quiet around here in the coming days as my evenings are spoken for, and my computer is situated in ‘mom’s room’. Till then send good wishes to Laurie, who’s dad is having surgery tomorrow, and to Kim, who fuggered her knee last week. And if you get bored check out this site for some very cool crochet art, and shop this Etsy shop (she makes the bestest bags ever). Till next time...take care of yourselves!