In anticipation of a visit from a posh, elderly lady, I’d gone through the house like a human whirlwind, removing all the evidence of a household suffering from neglect.
As a final touch I sprayed floral scents all around me, making the house smell like a meadow. Or a very cheap bathroom. I even remembered to clean up our entrance: I swept our sidewalk and removed all the kids’ toys. Then I looked around me, and I saw that it was good.
My posh lady duly arrived, and we had a highly polished conversation about stuff, while we drank tea from delicate porcelain cups I’d scored in the local thrift shop. Then I had to go to the toilet, because all that tea made my bladder complain. So I excused myself for a moment, and when I got back I saw my visitor standing in front of our living room window. The one that looks out on to our back garden.
And that’s when it hit me: THE GARDEN! I’ve forgotten to clean up the back yard! Silently I stood beside her, and together we looked at the wasteland before us.
Then I mumbled: ‘Well…’
She turned to me and kindly said: ‘Honey, you can’t be expected to do everything!’
Long after she was gone, I hugged those words to me. And when hubby came home, and complained about dinner not being ready I replied: ‘Honey, I can’t be expected to do everything!’