Why do women do this?

We were paid a visit by relatives recently, Joe and Cindy Hesson from Richmond, Indiana. This triggered one of Jackie's cleaning frenzies, of course. I appreciate clean surroundings as much as the next guy, but it seems the place is in pretty good shape all the time.
Not so, apparently. In the midst of her vacuuming and dusting and running from one place to another, Jackie took time to drop a dust rag beside my desk. "This is probably cleaner than the one you usually use," she said, and I'll admit she was right about that.
This was the first I realized a dust rag was going to be needed that particular morning so I said, "Who's coming?"
"You know perfectly well who's coming and you know how particular Joe is."
"What Joe are we talking about?"
"Joe Hesson, you know that."
"That's funny because the Joe I was thinking about also is named Joe Hesson. I can't recall the Joe Hesson I know being all that fussy."
"Well he is. So is Cindy."
So as Jackie went hurrying off to her next chore, I was jarred from my comfort zone. In the office I have a rule of thumb about dusting: When you no longer can tell the color of something, it's probably time to dust.Even though I could see my pipe racks were brown and all the other stuff looked normal, I went ahead and did my part. That's the trouble with cleaning frenzies; they're contagious. I don't suppose those five minutes away from work will keep me from winning a Pulitzer Prize, but you never can be certain about things like that.

My house is full of dust. I used to live in an old Victorian property that required lots of tender loving care and looked extremely forlorn if it didn't receive the love and respect it demanded.

Now, I live in a modern home that can survive months of neglect and look like a new pin when I go on one of Jackie's cleaning sprees. Which is just as well considering the neglect my home has had to suffer during the last four months of putting together the anthology!

Pass me the clean dust rag!

A Victorian property, Shelagh? How wonderful. Do you have any photos?

My mother was Mrs Clean. She held a full-time job as a nurse back in the days when most wives didn’t have their own cars, so she got up before dawn cracked, took the bus ‘to town’ and then transferred to a trolley for the last leg of her journey. She had to be at the hospital at 7am, so she put in a full day, then repeated the entire transportation process to return home. I’d be worn out after one day if I'd had to keep a schedule like that, but Mom kept that schedule for years. She still kept her house so clean that even the metal things that held the sliding doors sparkled. How she did it I’ll never know because I’m certainly not that way. House cleaning is the last thing on my mind, and in my younger days as a wife and mother, about the only time I really took something apart to clean was when I expected guests.

Why did I care what others thought? A female thing, I think. Pride. Ego. And guilt. Part of the guilt was because I grew up in an era when most women stayed home and took care of their homes, and I was told that women showed their love by keeping their homes clean. I was always the odd one as I'd rather work than do houseowork. I loved to cook, tho, and Mom hated it, so I'd cook and she'd clean. My goal was to be rich enough to pay someone to clean my house.

I think one of the rewards of growing older is that I no longer care what others think. I'm still not rich enough to have a full-time housekeeper. I clean enough so that the health department can’t evict me and the city won’t fine me because my home looks neglected. That’s about it. And when I’m busy writing, I’ll wash clothes when I realize I’m out of something clean to wear and wash dishes when I’ve gone through everything in the kitchen and am out of paper plates. When I have free time, I want to do something fun, even if it’s nothing more than popping some corn and watching a great video or reading. I still love to take rides and explore, altho the price of gas has limited that particular type of fun.

Thirty or forty years ago I kept a spotless house and worked full time. It almost killed me. I swore I would never again be married to a house. When people come to visit they had better be coming to visit me, not my house! I do however, keep things fairly tidy.

zadaconnaway wrote:

Thirty or forty years ago I kept a spotless house and worked full time. It almost killed me. I swore I would never again be married to a house. When people come to visit they had better be coming to visit me, not my house! I do however, keep things fairly tidy.

Wow! Me too.

I was a clean freak even as a child. I put my toys away. I folded all my clothes and even organized them by type, color, etc. I stacked my books in order. Lined up my shoes in the closet.

In our home we cleaned the house everyday. And when I cleaned I did my best and got every spot and speck of dust.

I was even a clean and tidy teenager. My locker in school was organized.

Call me sick, but I actually enjoyed cleaning. Maybe it was therapeutic or something. I did have, um, issues ...

Then something happened. I can't remember what or when. But now I don't care if the house isn't cleaned everyday or spotless. Mind you, I don't keep a dirty and messy house ... but a little clutter and some dust no longer bothers me.

Actually, since I started driving a truck and I'm never home ... well the house doesn't get messy anyway ... and I'm never there to clean it ... soooo.

The busier we got, the less the dust mattered. But we try. And we try harder whenever people come over.

Malcolm

The important thing to remember is that you should NEVER EVER say, "Oh you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble!"

That is such a downer! When you have worked yourself to a spot of grease, you do not want to be told that you need not have bothered. Be gracious. Compliment the host and say how special it makes you feel to know that someone has gone to all that trouble just for you. If you blurt out, "Oh, you shouldn't have," jump right in there and add, "but I'm glad you did!"

Brenda Hill wrote:

A Victorian property, Shelagh? How wonderful. Do you have any photos?

Hi Brenda,

You can see the satellite view of the house (bottom left-hand corner) on Google maps:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=bearsden+glasgow&ie=UTF8&ll=55.922512,-4.335464&spn=0.001479,0.003197&t=h&z=18

Dear Shelagh,
I imagine that if you had a bridge there, trolls lived under it.
It is kind of like living in a castle and knowing there is a bell tower somewhere but never finding it. All those old English tales have had a far reaching influence. I loved them, every one!

I do not know if anyone knows how mobile homes are built, but they do evaporate before your eyes in a matter of twenty or so years. David and I lived in a trailer for 23 years. It was 15 years old when we got it. In the end, not one thing could I do to make that place look clean. The floor rotted, the carpet rotted, the opossums and wild cats lived under the floor, the gerbils dug out of their cage and escaped through the floor, the roof leaked in so many spots that we had a bucket brigade. We repaired the repairs.

Last year we could afford to finance a real house on this property. It is built and we are so house proud! I have a routine every morning so that nothing ever gets really dirty.
I smile the whole time. It takes one hour to keep the whole place neat and tidy, laundry done.

Every other week, I do the floors with the help of Hoover Floor Mate, a wonderful invention, wash the throw rugs, the dog pillows, and dust what needs done.

I do all this stuff for David and I. It feels so good to be clean and comfortable. I do not worry about who is coming over. Not like in the days of the trailer. I hope this made some sense.

Love,
Betty

Thanks, Shelagh. Everything's fuzzy so I can barely make out the images, but it still looks huge.

There are a few Victorians in Redlands, CA, and I love the
architecture, the porches and gingerbread. I toured one for a
description in my current novel, and I can just imagine how nice it would
be to live there.

We used to refer to this as my mother's frenzy -- she kept a good house but went frantic before people came over so that it was the way she wanted to present it: perfect. I do the same thing although not to the same extent (well, maybe to the same extent). I also house clean when I am procrastinating about work. I used to say that I couldn't "concentrate" if there was mess around me, but that was just a ruse. If I want to procrastinate there is always a job somewhere that needs doing.

Oh, Pam, I'm a master at procrastination. You wouldn't believe the
stories I tell myself to delay doing something I don't want to do.

Brenda I hear you! Perhaps we should swap stories and that way add to our storehouse --

Brenda Hill wrote:

Thanks, Shelagh. Everything's fuzzy so I can barely make out the images, but it still looks huge.

There are a few Victorians in Redlands, CA, and I love the
architecture, the porches and gingerbread. I toured one for a
description in my current novel, and I can just imagine how nice it would
be to live there.

I did a search on the 'net and found this red sandstone house for sale. The house I lived in is the blond sandstone house in the background:



There are two houses joined together. The house on the left with the tourquoise front entrance is owned by two retired teachers. Their garden adjoined ours and we still send each other Christmas cards.

They're beautiful, Shelagh. Thanks for the closeup.

I'll swap, Pam. I need some good new stories.

Try any of these Brenda --

-I need to dust (the dust particles are falling back into the valley when I drag my finger through the dust).
-the dog needs a stretch. Yes, I know I can just let her out back, but look at her. Clearly she needs a good walk.
-I need to get this kindling chopped. We need a big stockpile for winter.

I have to run back to the market. I forgot toothpicks for my goldfish.

I have to wash my hair.

I need to start dinner, or lunch, or breakfast.

I really should clean off my desk; I can't find a thing. (I've said that for months and I still haven't cleaned it off)

But no matter what, I can't top chopping kindling. That's a good one!

I'm not going to point it out and get shunned, I'll just do it myself.

Now Abe, you know you wouldn't get shunned by anyone here. We love you.

I also like things neat and orderly, and don't like clutter.

I agree with Betty and how things are so much easier to keep clean today. I am so glad about Betty's new house.

I love the Swifter dusters and floor cleaners.

But right now things are a bit dusty here. Since not feeling well, it seems some things just aren't as important as in the past. But also I don't care about saving things and this morning my husband and I did a great job of cleaning up a closet, just throwing out stuff that had absolutely no importance in my life right now.

Carol

My mom always insisted that, if your bed was made and the dishes done, your house would be ready for surprise visitors. So, I make sure both of these chores are done.

I think dust protects the finish on furniture. Just my theory, and I'm sticking with it!

My house is reasonably clean and picked up. Not perfect. Actually, I like to have occasional company. It prompts me to deep clean...

and, sneeze for days...

Why do we all consider the person coming over to judge us on our housekeeping habits?

I am reminded of Mole in the Wind In The Willows when Rat and he were trudging through the snow. Mole caught a wiff of his old home and the memory of it wound around his heart and called to him like nothing else could. He longed to see his old home and be comforted by it and all the things he remembered as his home.

Mole knew that his house was not as grand as Rats or Toads, but he longed to see it, not the less.


God bless Rat for knowing what longing was in Mole's heart. The kindness that Rat exuded that cold, snowing night and the gentle heart he showed to Mole cannot be beat in all of literature.

If you have never read Wind In The Willows, you should.

We are all a little like Mole. We have our stuff that makes our house our hiding hole. Our safe spot on this earth. Whether we dust it or not is of no matter.
Love,
Betty

A house that is presented as a show case certainly can't be comfortable to live in.
When I visit someone and feel constrained that I will "mess something up," I don't enjoy the visit. When I go into a house that looks "lived-in," I might even feel like proping up my feet on a foot stool.
Filth is not acceptable. A bit of dust here and there, a jacket laying over a chair, a magazine lying next to a chair on the floor, etc., gives it a homey feeling.

Abe, you'd love our office - and living room. Talk about lived in!

Betty, I'll look up Wind in the Willows. Sounds great.

We've been trying to sell our house and the realtors want us to eliminate anything that looks homelike. They want no family pictures, because they are distractions. Out house is filled with family pictures. Sometimes we put some away, like those on the mantle, but gradually we put them back. Our daughter came home on her once a year visit and asked where her picture was!

Our house is orderly and nicely decorated. I say, "Why can't people see their decorating, see what they can do with this house?"

The realtors say some people just can't do that, that our house looks too much like a home. We are trying to downsize, and plan to buy our son's duplex, and he's got another house in mind. I decorate his duplex in my mind every time I go there.

Carol