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Published on 07/14/1999 All articles from this issue

From chaos to the doorbell

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By Kerri Havnen Gordon

The Living Experiment

My husband claims the real reason we invite people over is so the house will get cleaned. Perhaps I am in denial, but I like to think it has more to do with visiting, catching up on lives, maintaining old relationships or creating new ones. But my husband is adamant, and I am afraid he has a point.

While it feels like we perpetually clean and straighten, it never all comes together until we entertain. By the time the guests arrive, each room looks its personal best, irresistible smells waft from the kitchen, flowers adorn the tables, low-key music plays from the stereo, the porch is swept, the lawns are mowed, and in the winter, the fireplace is lit.

We love the house during those precious four minutes between the time we have finished maniacally cleaning until the doorbell rings. During those serene moments, we gingerly walk through the pristine house and feel somewhat surprised by the welcoming place we have magically created during the preceding two days of frenzy.

On a typical non-entertaining day, upon arrival from school or work, we are busy living. For me this means the usual, endless mom duties, plus occasional dips into the newspaper or a magazine. For the kids, it means building forts using every cushion, pillow, blanket, Lego, block and army guy in the house. All the kids need is a nice dose of parental yelling to be inspired to clean up.

All I need to be similarly inspired is to issue a dinner invitation.

The plan of attack always begins with the kitchen table, which unfortunately is the visual hub of the house. There, at any given time, you can find some loose change, several pencils, a super ball, Legos, a disposable cup of pudding on its side and leaking onto the table, a few rusty bottle caps recently found in the street, six or seven half-empty glasses of juice, cut flowers which don't smell so good anymore, a half-eaten apple, lots of papers (schoolwork, bills, grocery lists, credit card solicitations), and dried Cream of Wheat globs, which by late day require a chisel to remove.

Because I live with three guys, we won't even discuss the earthy state of the bathroom. The laundry room is in its usual chaos with dirty clothes covering the floor or clean ones mounded on top of the washer and dryer.

Last, if we've been busy playing on the weekends, the yard can look as if we're away on an extended vacation.

Nonetheless, we regularly invite people over, either because of our

genuine interest in socializing or because it is time to change the litter box.

We recently hosted two families for a casual gathering. When the doorbell rang, we ushered our guests ever so casually into the neat house.

One woman commented on how nice everything looked.

I couldn't very well say, "Wow, gee, thanks! You have no idea how hard we have worked. It has taken us days to get ready for this moment." I kept to myself the hours spent weeding through papers and dirtying countless rags and going through entire bottles of Resolve to spruce up the carpet. I neglected to mention that the vanilla candles were less for art and more for masking any unpleasant smells I might have missed.

Instead, I was perfectly prepared nonchalantly to accept the compliment and then offer them a drink, but my husband had to say, "We like to fool our guests into thinking we live like this all the time."

So much for the ruse.

Kerri Havnen Gordon, a Mountain View resident, writes The Living Experiment monthly for the Town Crier.