Mrs. Robin says, “Company is coming, so we have to clean up, fix up, and dress up the house for our guests.”
And I say, “Waitaminute. The house doesn’t have to be neat and clean for the people who live here and who you supposedly love, but for strangers and friends it has to be squeaky clean and shiny? Ever ask yourself why?”
Mrs. Robin dismisses the question and assigns chores and a panicked timetable for getting them all done.
And I, being a black-hearted sonofabitch, take my sweet time and get almost none of it done in time for guests to show up. Our home isn’t dirty or anything, but it isn’t ready for a Better Homes and Gardens photo shoot either.
And our guests are full of compliments for Mrs. Robin on how lovely our home is.
But my question remains, sincerely: Why do guests matter more than those who live here and pay for everything?