Cleaning House

One of the most painful parts of moving is the last little stretch of packing, cleaning, and loading the truck.  We were blessed to have our mothers come help along the way as well as a gaggle of friends from church.

When you walk into my house and I say, "please excuse the mess - it's filthy in here," I really mean something like:

I hope you think that my house always looks like this, when in fact, I spent an hour cleaning and threw all the clean clothes (folded or not folded) back in the dryer.  Don't open the guestroom closet under any circumstance.
A Sumner

I want you to believe that my clean is really my messy.

The problem with people coming to do the last bit of cleaning and moving furniture is that they see behind/under/on top of everything that I never cleaned.  Top of kitchen cabinets and behind the washer and dryer get taken care of by their generosity.

It's utterly humiliating.

And more so when I remember that I didn't pre-clean that one toilet.


But, it's only humiliating when I think of the mess.  When I think of them, their hard work, their love, their kindness - then it's something I treasure.

That's what friendship is - working together even in the gunk.  I've had "friendships" where we all had to pretend to be perfect.  I've had "friendships" that wallowed in our yuckiness.   I'd rather friends who will get dirty to help me get clean.


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