Frantic

Friday afternoon was spent frantically cleaning, for Russ had informed me that we were having company later that evening.

Don’t get me wrong—Anya and James are fun-loving non-judgmental friends, and we’ve shared some grand adventures through the years: dancing, hunting, and playing billiards.

Mostly in the living room, and mostly with the help of the Wii.

Tonight would surely follow suit, what with the arrival of the Lego Rock Band, the microphone, and guitars. Yes, plural.

There was no need for the frantic cleaning. The house wasn’t that messy, and they wouldn’t have commented anyway. They probably wouldn’t have even noticed. I sure don’t notice when I visit others’ homes.

No matter. Panic is my talent; frantic is my style.

I know I’m not alone in this. Millions of those internet memes have surfaced in the past year with some witty remark or another indicating that we all get more cleaning done in the ten minutes prior to the arrival of friends than we accomplish during the rest of the week. Or month. Or was it year?

Here is a pearl of wisdom that I encountered in my travels recently that I hope to someday embrace. I wish I could remember what the circumstances were—I’d love to give proper credit to this wise soul.

Long ago, I made the decision not to gussy up the house for company. That way, when they return to their own homes, they can look around and feel pleased that their home is not nearly the chaotic disaster that mine is.  I like to think that I’m doing a public service. If I can boost someone else’s confidence AND keep my own stress level down, it’s a win-win situation.