Making a Clean Sweep

My Defcon 5 kitchen sink.

In my house, the level of cleanliness generally confers the depth of friendship between us.  Below is the chart I use before pulling out the vacuum from the closet.

DEFCON 1: Cocked pistol--maximum readiness and immediate response.

For distant relatives or practical strangers I'm forced to entertain, I have (somewhat grudgingly) pulled out all the stops, Holt-style.  That means I will have dusted and vacuumed that day, picked up the kitchen and wiped down the counters that day, cleaned the first-floor bathroom with actual products as well as swapped out the dirty hand towel for one with fewer stains and holes--again, that day, and vacuumed the fur balls off the stairs.  Depending on the time of year and the level of judgment I anticipate, I may even spritz the kitchen-sink window to try to get rid of some of the water spots on it.

DEFCON 2: Armed forces ready to deploy and engage within 6 hours.

If you are a new friend, or a person I hope will become a friend, you will be greeted by a living room whose rug bears recent vacuum streaks and whose fireplace mantel has been pretty much swiped of dust.  Evidence of Finn will be limited to his actual body, all fur piles either in the vacuum bag or kitchen garbage can.  You will find the kitchen tidy and wiped down and the stove top scrubbed to the point where the marks that remain are simply unremoveable.  Believe me, I've tried!   I'm willing to spend a little more time on the kitchen because we likely will spend some social time there. The first-floor bathroom will smell of 409 and soap, and the towel will be folded smartly atop the rack, though you still will feel awkward using the bathroom, since it is tiny and has two doors that seldom close at the same time.  Some things cannot be addressed without a contractor and a good loan.

DEFCON 3: Ready to mobilize in 15 minutes.

For old friends who are stopping by for a visit, Finn fur has been picked up, by hand, and thrown into the library garbage can.  Dirty dishes are loaded into the dishwasher.  While the kitchen counters may show evidence of morning's toast crumbs, visitors will still feel relatively confident that they will not contract anything serious by eating or drinking whatever is offered.  The bathroom also can be used with relative confidence.

DEFCON 4: Above-normal readiness

Neighbors popping over for a beer will be greeted by minor tweaking. The dining-room table is mostly cleared, Finn fur is visible along the floorboards, although the most copious piles have been shoved into a dark corner near the church pew.  Dirty dishes are neatly piled on kitchen counters and spaghetti-stained kitchen towel has been swapped out for a clean one.  Magazines have been stowed in drawers although the morning's half-done crossword sits pathetically atop the footstool in the library.

DEFCON 5:  Lowest state of readiness

Here for a game of Scrabble?  Virtually no effort has been made to impress you.  After all, what's the point?  If you are thirsty or hungry, you will have to serve yourself and be willing to rinse out a glass or fetch a dirty fork from the dishwasher.  Likely, you also will have to flush the toilet before you use it.  Best to just go ahead of time.

It's with some trepidation that I share this chart with you, especially if you will be coming over some time in the next year.  What if you consider me a good friend yet you find my house sparkling clean when you pop in?  Will such foreknowledge threaten our friendship?  Will you be offended that the toilet has been swished, the dog hair hidden away?  My hope is that you'll excuse me for the transgression and trust that I'll do even less for you next time.  You are a good friend, after all.