My husband just came home from work, and to my suprise, brought a friend. Okay, normally this is not such a big deal, but today I had a killer sinus headache and instead of straightening up I took some of the super drowsy sinus medication and took a nap with the kid. So, the house was a mess, I’m talking health hazard, social services could take your kid and dog away from you messy. Now, that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this guy happens to be married to one of those neat freak women who constantly follows their kids around with a broom and lysol.
I think I’m going to crawl under my bed now and slowly die from shame.
Aw, dont be so hard on yourself - you had a major headache, after all. Especially because the visit was unannounced. In my mind that kinda means they have to take the house as it is. Besides, maybe the friend is really intimidated by his wife’s habits and would be more comfortable in a messier house. You never know - maybe it looked like heaven to him.
We have friends (a married couple) who are like this. They have no children and they are both neat freaks, so their house is always spotless. Every time they come over to our house, the looks on their faces are priceless. My house always look like a bomb went off, even when I have cleaned it. I always tell them the same thing, if you are going to show up unannounced, then tough shit if you don’t like the way the house looks. If you called first to warn me, then I would clean the house. I have four kids and a slob for a husband. I don’t have the time or the energy to clean up after them constantly. It is easier to let the mess build up for a couple of days before cleaning it up.
Shadowfox
“The two real political parties in America are the Winners and the Losers. The people don’t acknowledge this. They claim membership in two imaginary parties, the Republicans and the Democrats, instead.”
-Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons, “In a Manner that Must Shame God Himself” (Kurt Vonnegut)
Sexy assistant to Head Honcho,
Self-Righteous Clique
I always tell people they are welcome to drop in but take what you get. It could be trucks and graders lined up down the hall, back hoes, leggo, or many other things. Or, I could have been spread out on the living room floor doing paperwork. I might even have a spotless house. But I agree, if you are coming to see me, great! If you are coming to inspect my house, let me know ahead of time.
We are, each of us angels with only one wing,and we can only fly by embracing one another
I feel much better now, thanks! I guess I’ve bought into that whole “the state of the house is a reflection of the woman of the house” thing, a lot more than I thought.
And you know, after taking a good look at the mess that is my living room, I’ve realized that it is a good sort of mess. Mostly books, magazines, toys and art supplies. Not an empty crack vial or syringe to be found. And all the food debris under the table is debris of recent vintage. No crumbs over a day old on my floor!
Although, it’s a good thing he didn’t walk into the kitchen. I’m currently on garbage strike, since it’s my husband’s one household chore and I’m not going to do it. Luckily, we recycle our trash, so it’s easy for me just to take out the smelly food scraps and leave the rest for him. This time, I’m not giving in. I’m not nagging, I’m just not going to do it. It is driving me crazy, we have so many bottles piled up that it looks like an army of alcoholics live here, and I’m pretty sure that the 4 foot stack of cardboard is a fire hazard…
My opinion on cleaning up is directly related to my general philosophy of life: I firmly believe that the key to everything is personal responsibility. If you make a mess, metaphorically or physically, you should take care of it yourself.
Extrapolated to this particular situation, my belief structure holds that if I did not spill the crumby, scatter the Legos, grind the cereal into the carpet, or drink the beer, I’m flummoxed if I understand why I get to be the lucky one to clean it up or take it to the recycling bin.
Unfortunately, this philosophy ignores certain inconvenient aspects of reality. For example, when I was single and had a rabbit, I reasoned that since I had not actually put the rabbit hair on the floor and in the corners and in the little clumps that rolled, tumbleweed-style, across the apartment, it was hardly up to me to sweep it up. The result is that my apartment looked, at times, as if it had been knitted out of angora.
But, by golly, I was making a stand for personal responsibility!
And to you, Tatertot, I say that I hope that your husband has learned an overdue lesson about unannounced visits.
My house is where I live…and it looks like it. But I really try not to let it bother me because people really should let you know ahead of time when they are coming.
You’re welcome anytime, Tatertot! I should warn you, when you can’t tell the color of the carpet through the crumbs on top and the doorbell rings, I jump behind the couch until whoever it is goes away.
So if there’s no answer, we’re, um, probably out shopping. Yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket!
I got fed up with feeling like the Servant Girl a while back and gave my husband the one household chore of emptying the trash. You know, he could just keep an eye on it and take it out on his way to work. No go. Our life now runs very smoothly indeed, as long as I take out the trash, sort out the recyclables and take them to the bins, and haul in the crates of drinks. I’ve told him that sometimes I wish that I had a pregnant wife, too, and then I could get some reading done.
In the immortal words of my aunt: “I changed everything in my world to be married to you, and all you changed is who does your laundry.”
I guess I’ve bought into that whole “the state of the house is a reflection of the woman of the house” thing, a lot more than I thought.