Live with reckless abandon - until someone's coming to visit

I ran across a printed list last week that claims to be a guide to cleaning one’s home, sorted by frequency of how often particular tasks should be tackled.

The categories in this list included “every day,” “every week,” “every month,” “every three to six months,” and “every year.”

Nowhere did I see my category of choice: “When company is coming.”

I’m not saying I don’t do some of the things on the list on a fairly regular basis, like making beds and washing dishes.

But I can guarantee that “clean mirrors” does not happen weekly at my house.

“Dust blinds” will never appear on my monthly list.

I definitely don’t “vacuum mattresses” or “clean range hood” every three to six months.

Call me or send me a text that you’re coming by for a visit or to stay a few nights though, and all bets are off.

I had six guests staying in my house Thanksgiving week, which took me to another of my categories: “Projects that have absolutely nothing to do with your incoming company, but which will waste precious hours in the process.”

Did my guests notice that I had wrapped a cloth around a yardstick and dusted under the upright piano?

Did they appreciate that I had gone through the pantry and discarded out of date items?

(I did overlook one bottle of catsup and thought I could make it work if I shook it hard enough and pretended it was supposed to be brown, but I was busted by my suspicious and keen-eyed child.)

I daresay nobody noticed that my collection of bread wrapper ties had been culled to only 10, or that the forest of individually wrapped plastic forks that periodically overtakes my utensil drawer had been removed.

Not a single person mentioned how lovely it was that all of the pens in the spare pen drawer are functional or that the tin of sage purchased when I was a child is no longer in the spice cabinet.

My advice for cleaning one’s home is a lot simpler than the list I saw.

Live with reckless abandon until you know FOR CERTAIN that someone else might come through your doors.

Then grab a yardstick and clean under the piano.

It’s a great place to start.

Betty Williamson’s sock drawer has never been neater. Reach her at:

[email protected]