get me alice, stat

A bit of a mixed nuts kind of weekend around here. A bit of this, a bit of that. All perfectly unscheduled, which was fine by me. A peaceful, grown-ups only morning of scavenging turned up this sweet MelMac set, which is just what I wanted for an upcoming tea and crafting afternoon. Porcelain cups seemed too fussy for what I have in mind.



In between the furniture painting, garage reorg and mowing half the lawn, we also managed to squeeze in some much needed home maintenance. A door that was threatening to fall off its hinge for years finally did just that, and we could no longer ignore the problem. Bolstered by success we tackled a burned out lightbulb at the top of the landing. Months of navigating a twisty staircase in the dark has given us all some kind of weird spidey sense; I can manage it while carrying a tub of laundry and cradling the phone. But when a five-year old visitor asks "how come you haven't fixed the lightbulb yet?" willful blindness starts to feel like sloth.

In between the this and the that we had drop-in guests. Normally the idea of people arriving on my doorstep without at least an hour or two's notice would freak me out. I need time to stuff things into closets (or in a pinch the oven), whip the shower curtain closed and slap on some make-up. Like most, our house is never really in drop-in condition. But this weekend the house was particularly, well, I'll just say it, dirty. As in dishes in the sink, a bathroom that were it public I would not use, folded laundry covering the coffee table, a hoosier in the hallway blocking the closet door so everything that should be hidden away is now strewn about the floor, and, good god, a poopy diaper fermenting on the porch. It was not good. I was paint-splattered, pony-tailed and quite possibly not even showered when our visitors dropped in at 5:00, stayed for dinner (take-out), coffee and frozen apple crumble.

Sure it was a little embarrassing. But I was enjoying the conversation and counting on four kids tearing up the house to provide some camoflage. I thought I was getting away with it when my mother-in-law, who also happened to come by, cast an eye across the chaos and said "If you make some money this year maybe you can hire a housekeeper." A comment trumped by own mother who observed "You're always getting organized but you never get organized." They are both right. I need a housekeeper. I need an Alice to my Mrs. Brady. Do you know who Sisyphus is? I'd never heard of him until we let go the cleaning lady last year. Getting this house in order has been simultaneously uphill and downhill ever since.

Despite how it sounds, it was a splendid weekend. It was kind of freeing to have people see us at our worst and still want to stay, frozen apple crumble and all.