Last night my normally fastidious husband tossed his coat on the bench, the bench that sits a mere three feet away from our coat closet.
“Why didn’t you hang up your coat?” I asked.
“I’ll just have to get it out of the closet tomorrow morning.”
“By that reasoning, why would you do anything? Why would you make the bed?”
He raised his left eyebrow a hair, urging me to reconsider my question.
He got me there: I hadn’t made the bed in at least a week. In our domestic division of labor, bedmaking is my department.
The fact that we’re putting things off until tomorrow during the pandemic, could mean that we are optimists: Yes, of course tomorrow will come!
Our sloppy housekeeping could mean we’re pessimists: Why bother, tomorrow may never come.
Or maybe we’re just realists: What difference does it make. Nobody but us has been in this apartment for seven weeks, and nobody is likely to see our unmade bed and unhung-up coats tomorrow either.
Which makes me question why we ever did keep a neat clean house, even in “normal” times.
Of course, there are the health issues. My allergies make a dust-free house advisable. This morning when a plate of five dozen homemade cookies fell on the kitchen floor, I was glad that I had recently been on my hands and knees scrubbing it. And the bathroom . . . well, it goes without saying.
Seven weeks ago when the reality set in that we would be stuck in our apartment for an extended time, I was catapulted into a cleaning frenzy. I sanitized toilet bowls and counters, dusted bric-a-brac and baseboards, dismantled and detailed the refrigerator, and swapped out my floral-printed spring comforters for my heavy dark winter ones.
Maybe I was being an optimist: Won’t it be lovely sheltering in this tidy place?
Maybe I was being a pessimist: Don’t want them seeing my grubby house when they wheel me out on a stretcher.
Maybe I was being a realist: Better keep myself busy or I will go crazy, and if I have time on my hands, Rick will want me to go for a walk or listen to him or, well, you know.
Early in our marriage, my casual concept of “neat” drove my husband crazy. I covered the dining room stacks of ungraded papers. There were always at least three pairs of my shoes scattered about. When we went out, I left all my lotions and potions uncapped on the vanity. I made the bed only when one of our mothers was coming.
He was on the other end of the shipshape spectrum, hanging up his clothes as he took them off, putting his shoes in matched pairs on the rack in his closet, and—get this—putting his dirty dishes into the dishwasher instead of the sink. (I mean it, who does that?)
Over time, like our politics, our housekeeping styles became more moderate. I got neater, and he got more like a normal person.
During non-Covid times, what will ratchet up my cleaning? To be honest, most of my frantic cleaning and straightening is for company. I would entertain more if it did not mean taking all 6,000 books off my shelves in order to dust, scrubbing the bathroom grout with a toothbrush, using a protractor to fold my towels just so.
I have friends who don’t feel the least bit obliged to clean for company. They take an aggressive swipe at the cat fur on the sofa before inviting me to sit down, but that’s the extent of it. They bring me a glass of wine and set it next to the two half-empty ones on the table. I envy them their ease. They figured out, if they ever even thought about it, that I came to see them, not their house.
Like most long-married couples, we have negotiated a set point for housekeeping We do exactly enough to make us feel comfortable, efficient, and hygienic, with some regard for the standards of the neighbors, the Board of Health, and maiden aunties.
I am not sure we’d pass June Cleaver’s* white glove test, but we are more on the Felix Unger end of the tidiness continuum than the Oscar Madison. More Charlie Brown than Pigpen.
But during our quarantine, I admit we have relaxed a bit.
Maybe our relaxed standards show we’re optimistic, that we believe this is just a little hiccup, that it’s okay if things aren’t quite as neat as long as it doesn’t reflect internal chaos or create it.
Maybe our relaxed standards show we are pessimistic. Why bother cleaning, because nobody is ever going to be in our apartment again.
I am a realist, though. This pandemic will change us in important ways, but it’s taken 47 years of marriage to achieve détente with regard to housekeeping standards, and I am not starting over.
Tonight, Rick threw his damn coat on the damn bench again.
I said, “Hang up your coat. Because we don’t live in a barn!”
And because today matters.
*June Cleaver was the quintessential housewife in the 1957-1963 television sitcom, Leave It to Beaver. She wore pearls and pumps to do her housework and greeted her husband, Ward, fresh as a daisy when he returned home from his white-collar job in the family Plymouth.
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Enjoyed your observations and insight into housekeeping while sheltering in place. We are right there with you in relaxing our standards a bit too! It has been rather liberating not to feel the need to tidy up all the time while wearing my pearls and pumps!
Yeah, if you are going to wear your pearls and pumps, you might as well go out on the town . . . oh, yeah. That’s right.
If I start now, and I mean right now at 2:00am in the morning as May limps into view, I could possibly have all the housekeeping I need to do completed by, oh, say, Christmas——2021.
Thanks for the laughs, Sandy.
Can hardly believe it. Your house is always so immaculate, though so comfortable. Just walking into your home makes me feel lighter and at peace. Thanks for reading and responding.
This ranks up there as one of my favorites of yours. I love the 3 takes on everything: optimist, pessimist and realist. As usual, you speak my thoughts before they are fully formed. You offer a service that way and I love it. Your blog makes me feel better about being human
I am with Terri in that I enjoyed the three takes on everything. My husband’s clutter drives me nuts. My own is slightly more organized. I think that common living spaces should be picked up at least once during the day unless there is a good reason. This would be the areas that guests would see if they dropped by. Kitchens clutter drives me nuts, also. Work in progress mess I can tolerate. I am not June Clever! However, when in your apartment, it looks like June clever lives there. I am glad that you take off your pearls and heels sometimes. Everyone needs down time. Thanks for sharing.
Ah, so my last minute efforts at pre-book club housekeeping have paid off! Mostly, I do like things tidy, especially now when there is so much we can’t control. Thanks, always, for being a faithful reader and letting me know how my writing lands on you. Be healthy. Be safe.
Thanks for being such a big support and good friend. I value your opinion.
The shipshape spectrum!! ❤️❤️
I wondered if younger readers knew who June Cleaver was. I worried about the title for this reason. Did you? Thanks for reading and giving me a readback. Miss you.
Ha! Maybe the ghost of June Cleaver was annoyed with my housekeeping procrastinations? The fire forced me into a major cleanup…and continúes daily while we are still repairing and recostructing. The only room that hasn’t received scrupulous attention is my Office room – the room holding my writing piles – still coated with soot – and my laptop. Irony.
Sometime we need to talk in person and you can tell me all about the fire. The cleanup after that must be horrendous. Soot! A special kind of hell, I am sure. Thanks for reading.
Love it!!! As this is an ongoing “discussion” in our household , my husband and I both laughed out loud. Well done Sandy.
It took so much hard work to figure this out in our marriage. I have a neighbor who is in her fifties and picked now, during a pandemic, in a small apartment, to begin cohabitating with a man. They are driving each other crazy. I can’t imagine starting over with a new mate. The training period is just too long and hard. Thanks for reading. It lights up my day when I see your name in the comments.
I loved your transition from “well you know.” To. “Early in our marriage!!!
Was that intentional?
Thanks for keeping it real, you are killing me Lingo!
Yeah, that was kind of brilliant . . . uh, no, it wasn’t intentional, but I will take credit anyway. Love that you read my blog. Thanks for letting me know.
Even as an Uber tidy person I never make my bed in the AM but clutter in the kitchen drives me nuts. It’s my German upbringing living in a small house with 9 members. Can relate to this topic Sandy. Thanks. You say things we all deal with.
I never would have guessed that you don’t make your bed! Your house is such a showplace! I wonder what it would be like keeping house when nine people live there. I wonder if all of you grew up to be neatniks. Love hearing from you. Hope you’re progressing on your book.
I just sent Teri a message about how messy we have been staying at home. So she referred me to your latest blog! Thanks for making me feel we are all together in this ( sloppy) thing. Haha.
Great writing!!!
Kathy
Oh, Kathy! So nice to see your name pop up! Mostly I do like things neat, but our downgraded housekeeping did show me we needed to work harder to control what we can. We will get to the other side.
Just so you know, I am Rick, and Scott is you!
I, too, appreciated the pessimist, optimist, and realist point of view. I actually have a poster with that concept…The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails. –William Arthur Ward
Love that quote from your poster! There was the old joke about the kid who’s an optimist. They put him in a room with manure piled to the ceiling and he says, “There must be a pony nearby!”
Thanks for reading. Love when readers extend my understanding of my own writing.
What a great read!!! We seriously considered taking the holiday cards down during Coronapocalypse. I even started to do it. My son stopped me. He said, “Don’t. We need the joy.” That’s our level of housekeeping.
I love that! Can’t think of anything joyous in our apartment right now EXCEPT the relative tidiness and cleanliness. There is a paper full of my one-year-old granddaughter’s handprints that I had mounted on the outside of the door, but seeing as we so rarely go out and come back, we almost never so them, so I moved them inside. You have joyous, fun-loving kids, I suspect. Thanks for reading. I am honored.
And then there’s OUR house, with the sudden invasion of two young adult males. I’d forgotten how much junk they generate! Between trying to focus on schoolwork (mine) and the loss of our once/month cleaning help, I am just doing things piecemeal. For example, it’s bugging me that I ran out of time last week and only cleaned half of the living room. When will I get back to THAT? And it’s a cruel joke that all this coincides with the explosion of springtime yardwork. Arghh!