Twice a year, I perpetuate a big deception to a complete stranger. It is a lie I have held on to for so long, I feel the need to finally come clean. That stranger is actually here as I type this, and I am trying to play it cool.
Once in the spring, and once in the fall, we are visited by the Estes man. He comes to check our heating and air system in the attic for routine inspections. The problem is, the ladder to access said system is in my closet. Which is located in my bedroom.
I think one’s bedroom is a very personal space, and usually, the only people in mine are my husband and my dogs. So, I don’t put much effort into it.
Until the Estes man comes to visit. Because on those two days a year, and only those two days a year, I actually make my bed. Yes, you read that correctly, I make my bed so the heating and air technician won’t judge me.
But making the bed is easy. The harder part is dealing with the closet. And my closet, I am now going to admit, is a complete and utter wreck. I have underwear falling out of drawers, I have partially unpacked bags, I have shoes flung in every corner, and I have clothes over most of the surface of the floor. Basically, I have no shame.
The closet is way too big of a project to clean for Mr. Estes, so I improvise. Sometimes I will cover the carnage with sheets, and other times I will shove it into suitcases. But every time I direct him to it, I refer to it as “the closet”, in the hopes that he won’t guess it’s mine.
The burning question, of course, is why do I care what this person that occupies a sum total of 30 minutes of my life each year thinks? Am I afraid he will humiliate me with footage on YouTube? Am I worried I will be flagged in their database as “that house?” Or, is my “inside” voice really telling me I am not the homemaker I am supposed to be?
Ironically, the description of this image I put in this blog is labeled “careless housewife concept.” The struggle is real and the pressure to be perfect is everywhere, even in stock art!! Look, I always admire a clean, de-cluttered house. I think people who stay on top of it and show pride in their homes are to be praised and I am jealous. I also think it is ok to be a “healthy mess.” Sometimes, as moms, we don’t have enough physical or emotional energy to keep every aspect of our lives spotless. Sometimes, we need to set aside some expectations and time to take care of ourselves, give ourselves a break, or just choose to ignore the dishes because we’re not feeling it. Sometimes, something has to give, and I think that is 100% ok.
I know this is my truth, and I will always try to live by it with everyone, of course, except Mr. Estes.
