Good Morning.
I received an interesting e-mail this week from my cousin in Vermont. He said he had no idea why the following sentiment made him think of me:
Always keep several Get Well cards on the mantel. That way, if unexpected guests arrive, they'll think you've
been sick and unable to clean.
I loved it and it got me thinking about the interesting things people do when the house is a mess and someone rings the bell.
If things are really bad, you go to the door and tell the person or people that you have the flu and don't want them to get
sick. As you approach the door you should rub your face vigorously for a flushed appearance, and if you can make your
voice sound stuffy, so much the better. Practice this when you're alone to perfect a certain huskiness. Another suggestion is to put on your sunglasses and tell the intruders that you have something contagious like pink eye.
Hopefully, however, you have a little warning before someone descends on you, like five minutes. This gives you time to grab the throw pillows covered with dog hair, hurry them into a closet, and put a lovely throw or two on the couch where Lassie likes to camp out. In the interest of pleasantry, even though you're in a complete dither, you need to offer the person a cup of coffee and a few cookies on a nice plate. Obviously you haven't had time to bake anything, but Pepperidge Farm has an attractive assortment and Girl Scout cookies work in a pinch. Keep a supply in the pantry or the freezer. Oreos you eat by yourself when you're depressed, not harried.
Evening bellringers are better. You can turn off the lights and illuminate the room with votive candles for a romantic
vibe. You can provide the guest with an adult beverage to numb them to the clutter and put on some music as a distraction. It's kind of like wearing a bright scarf at the neck to deter the view from the jeans that are splitting their seams further on down. If you're a male person, you don't need the scarf because your lower half doesn't bulge around as it does with the humans of my gender, but you still need the music. I would recommend something like The 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky with the sound turned up very loud so the cannons at the end drive the guests right out the door they used for their entrance.
Meanwhile the dishes in the sink need to be hustled into the oven, hopefully one that's turned off, or thrown in the dishwasher. You can always remove them later, soak and scrape off the day-old remains of scrambled eggs, and actually wash them when you get around to it. Just don't forget about the items in the oven, turn it on, and render a plastic cereal bowl with a few Cheerios stuck to it into a molten blob.
You should put Lassie on her leash and hold it in your hand. Some people do not appreciate a dog licking them to death or brushing up against a pair of dark slacks. A cat may need to be sequestered in another room, one you don't want guests peeking into anyway. A cat tends to leap around and play with the dust bunnies under the furniture, even dragging one or two out so the guests can see them more clearly too.
Then there's the matter of what you yourself looks like and fixing this mess is worse than what you do with the dishes or the dust. Almost anyone will probably not be clad in particularly attractive garb when visitors show up without warning and this is what you do when you get caught in your jammies with a bad case of bedhead: you turn the cat loose.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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