Whip the House into Shape For the Holidays!

 

By Eileen White Jahn

 

If you are an indifferent housekeeper/overworked parent/harried head of household/all of the above who stills clings to a shred of self-respect then one of the most dreaded calls you can get is that someone whose approval you crave is on their way over to pay an unexpected visit. This call from your minister/mother-in-law/country club president/random head of state invariably comes at the end of a bad day/week/month/year/life when your house is in its worst possible state (and I don’t mean New Jersey). You now have fifteen minutes to whip the house into shape, or perhaps burn it to the ground, whichever is more expeditious. Since even justifiable arson is still generally considered illegal (even in New Jersey), you are probably stuck with the cleaning.

 

First, enlist the help of the children. Scream loudly that there is an emergency and everyone must evacuate the house, which is exactly what they will do as soon as you announce that you need their help anyway. When they appear, simply wrestle them to the floor and tie rags to their feet, because the only help you are going to get from the little weasels is some floor polishing while they scurry away like rats from a sinking ship (pardon the double rodent metaphor, but strong language is sometimes called for). Don’t fret; you’ll get more work done without them anyway.

 

Next, throw a pot of water and herbs on the stove to simmer. This will lend the house warmth by giving the false impression that a home-cooked meal is being lovingly prepared. This could possibly explain why the house is such a wreck, you being caught up in the cooking and all.

 

In the old days people used to have an unused parlor as a “safe” room for just this contingency. Nowadays, modern living demands that we must use and fill every conceivable space with crap. Decide which room has the least crap. Race in there, and using all four sets of digits, gather up everything you can possibly carry and stuff it behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. Pray that your guest will not need to use the toilet, but as a precaution mention a nasty case of dysentery going around.

 

Next, turn down the lights as far as they possibly go, candlelight is preferable. If it is midday and sunny, draw the curtains to achieve this effect. Better to be thought a bit eccentric then to have your guest see that you haven’t dusted/vacuumed/de-haired the couch for the better part of this millennium.

 

Ideally your “safe” room will be a beeline from the entrance way. If not, you might consider inviting your guest to enter directly into the room through a window. This could be ill-advised as your company might be alarmed enough already at the sight of your rag-clad children shrieking about the lawn. Therefore, using a shovel, clear a path from the front door to the room you have prepared. Chuck everything wildly into rooms that you won’t use. Slam shut the doors to all unused rooms, using a pry bar if necessary.

 

When the door bell rings, pause for a moment to compose yourself. Inhale deeply, and cough wildly as your lungs fill with the acrid smell of burning herbs from the kitchen. Then, realize that it wasn’t actually the doorbell, but the screech of the smoke detector going off as your drawn curtains ignite from the open flame of the candles. As you dial 911, thank God that you had the foresight to evacuate the children. Don’t feel too badly, it really is more expeditious to burn the house to the ground anyway.

 

 

 

© 2010 Eileen White Jahn

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Eileen White Jahn is a college professor and mother of six with a housekeeping problem. She has been writing for fun and money for several years now (a lot of fun, a little money!) and her work has been published in national and local periodicals.