Why You Shouldn't Have a Spotless Home

This year I'll be turning forty. Maybe it's that number, so halfish, that's got me thinking about what's truly important, about what I need to priortize for the final stretch. Because, let's face it, forty is half of eighty and if you're a logical thinker, an analyst, you can probably deduce that my healthiest years have already been had. Think again.

It's all about attitude (ninety percent if you believe the experts) and I'll be damned if I'm going to allow another middle-ager to be straight-jacketed by a bottle of Windex. Read on.

I know more now.

I know what I want and, incidentally, what I don't want. What I don't want is to look back upon my life someday and sigh in relief that my house has been kept clean. Whew, what would life have been like without that light-blinding tabletop? I shudder to think...

Don't get me wrong, a sparkling home is delightful. There's something refreshing about walking into a home that screams for a rehearsal in the latest Comet commercial. A sparkling home makes you want to sit on your couch and admire its sheen, just sit and stare. Aahh the neatness of it all, controlled by little ol' me, the cleaner.

The problem with cleaning too much is double-fisted.

If you are blinded by the light of your clean home and it remains stagnant in such perfection, one of two things are happening: You're not actually 'living' in the home and accessing it's 'stuff' without fear of mess or - more hazardous - you're spending your waking, breathing, aging hours cleaning it.

But, alas, I am a fan of the Devil's Advocate. So let's consider the other side of the coin, shall we? There are the basics - laundry, uniforms, dishes, bedding, disenfecting, putting groceries away - no problemo here. But what comes next?

When the basics are attacked, does one choose to devour the daylight's remainder by cleaning closets, dusting, attacking empty tea cups, snapping dvds back into cases, dusting refrigerator tops, hanging up every bloody sweatshirt?

Sound off balance?

We could provide a village of shelter for the homeless in the time it takes to better the already-fine homes we have and I'm not being facetious here, ladies. And men who clean.

When do we enjoy our homes the most? Likely, it's when it's shared with friends and family (note that I accept the variables here). How often do we encourage our guests to make themselves comfortable and relax, turning down offers to help with clean up duty. 'Oh, don't worry about it,' we say graciously, as though, later, we won't turn into Hitler's spies. 'How many times have I told you to pick up the...?'

'Why isn't the ____________ (insert complaint here) done?'

You know the drill. We save our best etiquette, our best selves, for our guests. Then, in the confines of our 'safe haven' we turn rude. Our home is not to be enjoyed and that's final!

Typically, if I overachieve in the cleaning department, the choice is a clever disguise for what I should be doing - that is - to finish my synopsis, research a new market, revise a chapter; in short, to stay focused on my goals, not my floor. A goal is a dream to make happen, a floor is something you walk on.

As I write this, a collection of clean mugs stand in line at my counter, huddled as though awaiting a swine flu clinic. I know I'll get to them. They'll be tucked away in due time. But right now, I'd rather be chatting with you, asking the right questions.

Can you imagine dining out at elegant restaurant only to be interrupted every two minutes by the waitress - dustbusting crumbs at your feet, spot-cleaning an oil stain on the tablecloth, clearing your plate early, changing your napkin. You wouldn't savor the taste of your food any more than the dining experience.

Now view your home in the same manner. If you're constantly shadowing the messes of your family - along with your own - you can't possibly be enjoying what your home has to offer. And how many of you haven't even been in touch with what your home has to offer because you're too busy cleaning it??

Why do we own these homes in the first place? Do our homes truly provide a safe haven from the chaos outside or are they one more hurdle to overcome?

Gratitude means being thankful for every scratch, stain, and peeled ceiling that your home has to offer. My hardwood floor has more 'character' than the drama club(credit to my twelve year old golden retriever) and my bedroom bureau gives new meaning to the word 'ecclectic'.

But, at forty, I know what I don't want, and that's an uptight attitude. Why would I want to drain my own positive energy? I've got mugs to put away.

Change your paint color. Move your curtains. Play with your baby's toes.

And then you, too, will sparkle.