Growing up, I always took a clean home for granted. Our house was small, but I’m pretty sure you could have eaten off the floor without getting sick. My mother never lectured us about housekeeping. She didn’t need to. She simply lived by a standard that quietly became mine. 

Married to a farmer at the ripe age of 19, I maintained my mother’s standard of cleanliness while juggling work, volunteering and Jazzercize classes, all while maintaining my whopping weight of 110 pounds.  Of course, back then we all thought 110 pounds was fat.  Little did I know…but that’s another column.

Eventually kids came into the picture, along with a second job as Township Clerk.  I never ironed my bedding – or anything else for that matter – but I did manage to keep an orderly home. 

Of course, back then, I had no idea that not everyone maintained that same level of order as I had grown accustomed to.  It wasn’t until I visited a co-worker’s house that I realized my mother’s standard wasn’t everyone’s standard. It was simply the one I’d carried with me into adulthood. I quickly learned never to apologize for my messy house until I’d seen theirs first. 

For the greater part of my life, I really could have used some help around the house, but it was about as realistic as hiring a live-in nanny.  Then I married Thurston. One day he told me I deserved a cleaning lady.  I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. 

I spent forty years wishing I had a cleaning lady.  Then I got one.  Only to find myself spending half a day cleaning before she got there.  Ironically, going without one since our move has been easier than I expected.  With remodeling dust covering every surface, I’ve decided to stop pretending.  Now I simply wave my hand toward the construction dust and say, “we’re still remodeling.”     

Apparently, I’m not the only one. A group of us were leaving our cruise quarters the other night on our way to dinner.  Halfway down the hall, someone admitted they’d straightened up their room before leaving.  We all laughed because we’d all done the same thing.  We didn’t want our steward to think we were slobs. 

After peeking into a few cruise cabins on departure day, I felt a whole lot better about ours. I bet the cleaning lady and the steward weren’t judging us after all. Maybe I was the only one doing the judging. Old habits are hard to break.    

*As published in The County Journal on 8/15/26