The house is a mess. You’re exhausted. Some friends drop by unannounced, and ring the doorbell. Do you pretend you are not home?
If these friends are willing to turn up unannounced they must be pretty good friends who already know what my housekeeping is like. Ideally, I would like a few hours notice so I can straighten up and do dishes and stuff but, all things considered, I’m not living in a trash heap around here. The bigger fear is that I don’t have enough coffee…
The Man still teases me once in a while about how apologetic I was about the “mess” in my old apartment when he’d come over. The definition of mess can be quite broad and I was defining a mess as a crumpled sofa throw and my slippers in sight. I’d go to his place to visit and.. wow.. the everything was in the everywhere and mess was hardly enough of a word to contain it all. His apartment was hardly enough of a space to contain it all.
When my mother turned 40, I thought it’d be worthwhile of her to enjoy the big number with some company so I wandered down the road to my grandpa’s house and called my nearby aunts. I don’t remember if they called anyone else but they did turn up at our house unannounced and I don’t know what my mother was more annoyed with – the surprise birthday party or the “mess” she didn’t want them to see. (She was always a neat freak when I was a kid.) I seem to recall a bunch of huffy slamming of bedroom/laundry doors in the few moments she had before she needed to smile and greet the unexpected guests.
I’ll finish with another question that I’ll leave for the readers:
The house is a mess and you’re exhausted. You hear a car door slam and glance out the living room window. You notice two women coming to the door carrying copies of the Watchtower. Do you hide under the sofa and pretend you’re not home?