My world got a little out of sorts recently. I am going to explain the situation the best I can, but I must warn you it is a little convoluted – so pay close attention and I think it will all make sense in the end.
Two: Something – waiting to the last minute to pack, a family emergency, a last minute lunch date with a friend, dogs getting sick all over the back porch – always gets in the way of my cleaning the house from top to bottom.
Three: On my way out of town I will always call my friend Maylu and say, “Maylu, my house is a mess. If I die, please get to my house and clean it before anyone else gets there.”
Let’s stop here for a minute and discuss my desire to have my house spotless before I leave town, just in case I die. And let’s just start at the heart of the issue: it is PRIDE. Yes, I said it. It is all about my pride. Heaven forbid, I should die and have people come to my home and find it messy. I want all of you to think I keep a perfect house every single day!
You may be asking yourself at this point, “Does she really think her friends and family would care?” Apparently, I do! Yes, I have played out a scene in my head where people arrive at my home following my demise and offer their sweet condolences. Then, they proceed to my bedroom or worse, my bathroom. I imagine them saying something like, “I never knew she was such a slob.”
Now the reverse of that is, would they really walk into my home following my demise and comment on how clean my house is? Again, apparently, I think they would. And in this very brief moment of sanity, as I write this, I ask myself (and yes, I know talking to oneself is a sign of insanity but just humor me…) would someone, anyone really say, “So sorry she is gone. Her house was always so clean and organized.”
No, they would not. And a better question yet, is would I ever say either one of those things if one of my friends was to die? Of course not! But for some reason I seem to think they would say or think that about me. (Yes, we are back to insanity.)
Now, let me tell you how a clean house and death got my world all out of sorts. My husband and I recently spent a long weekend in Fayetteville. I did what I always do on my way out of town: I called Maylu. She was given the “if I die” instructions.
I think to myself, I am not dead? (Brilliant, aren’t I?) She is only supposed to do this if I die.
I immediately get on the phone with Maylu and ask her if there have been some vicious rumors about me going around this weekend. I asked, “Did someone tell you I died, because my house is spotless?”
After a few moments of laughter, she explained that she had been there doing some laundry and decided to clean my house while she waited. (Note: they have been living in their camper waiting for their new home to be ready.)
Having Maylu clean my home was such a sweet blessing. But because our deal is you clean my house if I die, I kept laughingly thinking “I should be dead.”
As I went to bed that night, I thanked God for my amazing friend. I also thanked Him that I no longer have to worry about dying with a messy house.
We have already had a practice run and I am very happy with the results. So if I should pass on, ya’ll come on over to the house, it will look great. Just pretend that I kept it like that all the time, and quietly whisper a thank you to Maylu.