Housekeeping

Quite often my first thought of the day is also my most (and sometimes my only) brilliant thought of the day. Saturday I woke up with the word housekeeping in my head, which is not a complete thought in itself, but as I said the word aloud I realized for the first time that it's the second half of the word that's key: housekeeping. It's the 'keeping' that is so difficult.

For me, housekeeping is an art analogous to plate spinning. (During the Mulan parade at Disneyland ten years ago, I witnessed marching Chinese plate spinners managing six rotating plates per person at the ends of long wooden poles, three poles in each hand. It definitely left an impression.)


Anyone with enough motivation, gumption, energy, elbow grease, and chemicals can clean anything. Take, for example, a refrigerator, which can be rendered gleaming white and smooth regardless of its previous condition. The problem is a refrigerator has a door, and all of its contents are out of sight, out of mind. Within a matter of days, you can't find a place for the ketchup again and there's something brown and sticky on the your favorite shelf.


I love a clean house! But rather than having sound routines and good habits to maintain a clean home, I tend to clean in fits and spurts. I clean when the mood strikes me (thank goodness, it does occasionally) or in desperation or because company is coming. Sometimes I clean when I want to think about something. After an early morning confrontation with my son, who was then ten years old, I spent the school day deep cleaning his room. It gave me an opportunity to think about bridging the divide between us. He was surprised and delighted when he came home, and he knew that I loved him, which is, after all, the most important thing.


I've known and admired many excellent housekeepers over the years. My roommate's mother moved out of her house room by room every spring to thoroughly clean every square inch of it and all of its contents. Over-the-top? Maybe, but her home was truly a sanctuary.

Most great housekeepers whom I've observed seem to clean in stride. They don't walk through a room without putting something in place. They clear the table and wash the dishes immediately after the meal with lightening speed. Before bed each evening they tour the house putting everything right again after a day of living.


But I've known housekeepers, too, who are so obsessed with cleanliness that they and their families can't really live in their homes. They seem to have forgotten that a home is supposed to be a place of rest and refuge.