I'm a slob. I came to terms with that a long time ago. I don't try to hide it. I used to worry about people coming into my place for the first time and seeing my disaster. But, at some point in my life, I decided I really didn't care.
A friend told me she liked it when I came to visit because the pressure to have a perfect home and to entertain me was non-existent. A bed, some pizza and beer, and I'm good.
But, when my mom visits, I still get a little panicky about cleaning. She's not a white-gloved person. Not even close. She's as much of a slob as I am. Once, while in high school, a friend of mine spent the night. In the morning when she walked into the dining room and exclaimed, "Oh my God! I can see the table!" And then she apologized for being rude. I told her it was fine--I hadn't seen the top of the table in who knows how long. It was usually covered in newspapers and mail. If she hadn't said anything, Mom would've been disappointed that no one noticed she had cleaned off the table. Fast forward twenty years, the weekend before my mom comes to visit, I begin to panic and start scrubbing.
After an afternoon of scrubbing the bathroom and steam cleaning the floors (that Shark steam cleaner? Awesome), I didn't want to do anymore. I emailed Mom and asked her if she would be terribly offended if I didn't clean.
Her response?
"Clean? Why would you do that?"
I was hoping she'd say that.
1 comment:
I kind of wish I didn't care, but the clutter and mess drives me insane. Which is unfortunate, since I have a kid, 2 cats, and a husband who suffers from "Dirt Blindness." I can ignore it for a while, but every couple of weeks, it builds up to a level I can't stand and I have to clean the whole house. I HATE cleaning, but actually having a clean house? Makes me feel so much calmer and more relaxed.
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