t’s only when you’ve invited friends to stay that you realise how much work needs to be done around the house.
Just over 30 years ago, I became acquainted with a number of people at my university’s halls of residence. Many of us lost touch after, but I remained in contact with a few. One of those friends, with his wife and teenage sons, had finally decided to come and stay with me and my bestie Lynne in the summer of 2020.
Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how that all worked out. I remember telling them in April or some such month that they’d probably be fine to travel here that same year. “It’ll all blow over,” I stated, with the similar kind of confidence I employed when I said Hurricane Ivan would miss us by miles in 2004. Of course, the complete opposite happened. Not only did it not blow over, but relationships were tested all over the world as people isolated together for months, and toilet paper – officially the primary crisis currency – was rationed at the supermarkets.
So, my friend and his family had to postpone their vacation, which was gutting, as it had already taken decades to try and get him here. I really thought it wouldn’t get rescheduled, but I was wrong. When I heard they were flying over this month, I was thrilled and excited… a delightful distraction from the fact that the spare bedrooms had become storage warehouses and needed some serious attention.
Now, I’ve known about this trip for quite some time, but naturally I didn’t decide to make a move until this week. Did I mention that they are arriving on Saturday? The first thing to look at was my office area. We used to call it the ‘home gym’ but after removing the aerobic step platforms and the elliptical – leaving a treadmill in happy slumber under a pile of boxes, clothes and Christmas decorations – it seemed time to give up the charade. If the temperatures outdoors were 190 degrees F (real feel: 235) and I still wasn’t compelled to exercise indoors, it was never going to happen. I needed to get that treadmill gone ASAP (much to Lynne’s delight, who had been praying for the day I’d see sense), so I posted it on a freebie site. I often feel that treadmills are like fancy home espresso machines: They seem like an amazing purchase at the time, and we promise ourselves we’ll use them every day, but then they collect dust and end up joining the glut for secondhand sale online.
As I was starting to sort the office, so I also had to face the reality of the bedrooms. Our guests would be able to hang up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in the closets, if they were lucky. DVD players stacked on top of carnival costumes, endless ‘occasional cushions’ and a slew of cat carriers (in case we needed to get our seven moggies out of the house all at once) were taking up all the room.
I am not unskilled at creating space where surely none can exist. It’s all about getting into a Tetris frame of mind. Some are experts at stacking dishwashers – I shine when we’ve got to cram groceries into the freezer. That box is turned to go on its side; the frozen peas can reside in the door; the popsicles can be removed from their container and stored solo wherever a small slot presents itself. Et voilà! Suddenly we can fit a Buick on the top shelf.
I got to rearranging the closets, and slowly – but surely – the outlook improved. Also, I found someone who wanted to take the treadmill. Soon I’d be able to walk to the back of the office without catching my clothes on the sticky-outy bits of that machine, or tripping over its feet – about the only kind of ‘stretching’ that got done in our gym.
While Lynne was trying to help (force) me to divest myself of lots of belongings, I was working against her on the quiet, bringing in beach chairs, towels, umbrellas and personal igloo bags through the side door. Well, we have to be hospitable to our guests!
As I write this, I’m attempting to push down the wave of panic threatening to envelop me, as I still think of all the work that’s left to be done. You know when you can’t sleep at night, and you keep looking at the clock, and say to yourself, “Okay, if I fall asleep now, I’ll at least have five hours before the alarm”? That’s where I am.
“Okay, if I get back to clearing out the rooms now, I’ll have at least three days before they arrive.” Besides, if I run out of time, they can have my bed and I’ll sleep in the chicken coop. A solution for every problem.
Speaking of sleep, I need a nap. I’ll get back to work tomorrow.
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