You Know You're Having a House Guest When..

You know you're having a house guest when you vacuum the stairs.

If you know me, you know I don't clean. Not because I'm a prima donna or have a cleaning lady (I wish! Is it wonderful Brea?), but because I'm just a generally untidy person. I don't clean, but I should clean. My friend Abbie took us up on our offer to stay at our house and we couldn't be more excited to have her under the same roof as our family. I love having people over, but I am embarrassed by the current filth. So I began the undertaking of project clean house tonight and before I knew it I had our Hoover balanced on a step and I was going to town with the hose attachment. (I feel like there's a dirty joke somewhere in there so I'll just get that off my chest before someone else giggles at my expense.) I don't know about other people's cleaning regimens, but vacuuming the stairs is not part of our normal routine. Vacuuming the stairs signifies that someone special is on their way. Only an out of town guest is worthy of a lint free romp up the steps. I realize that this symbol of vacuumed stairs comes from my experience growing up.

My mom always kept our house clean, but she pulled out all the stops when company was in town. Aunts and uncles or the rare visit from my grandma meant every surface was dusted an additional time, every glass pane shined up extra special, and those usually neglected stairs got their day in the sun with a fresh vacuuming. Vacuum cleaners used to be a lot heavier when I was younger making an already awkward location that much more difficult to clean. Thus us kids were often assigned the task. My mom would haul the vacuum halfway up and leave us to stretch the hose as far as we could before returning to move it up the stairway a little further before fully completing the chore. I hated this job. I hated chores in general, though I rarely had to do much of anything. I didn't do a single load of laundry until college. I had to learn how to use a washing machine the summer before leaving for Mizzou. Even then I would usually just save up my dirty clothes and bring them home when visiting for the weekend for dear ol' mom to take care of. She's a real gem.

Back to the vacuuming...Recalling my time spent on stairways is a happy memory despite my distaste for the task. You see the vacuuming was always saved for the very end of the chores. This way the carpet looked oh so fresh for the visitors' arrival before getting mussed up by footprints. Similar to Pavlov's dog, the sound of the vacuum triggers feelings of anticipation. At any moment our guests could pull up and I'd hear the ding dong of our doorbell at which point a joyous reunion would ensue. I can just picture my extended family shuffling through the doorway as I am still rolling the vacuum back into the closet. Legs are stretching, backs cracking, yawning, and wiping off the remains of cramping from the long road trip into town. My oldest sister lives 2 states away and before she had kids she visited less often than she does now. Needless to say her visits were a big deal and my mom demonstrated this with her cleaning routine. Back then Amy had the red carpet rolled out (and vacuumed) for her arrival. My second sister used to get the vacuum treatment when she came home from college. By the time I was a coed the pomp and circumstance of vacuumed stairs had ended (at least for visits from immediate family). I vaguely remember one of the sisters complaining that "Mom doesn't clean for my visits like she does for yours." Whichever sister the complaint came from I'm sure was noticing the lack of vacuumed stairs. If you think I'm exaggerating trust me when you grow up vacuuming those suckers, it's the type of thing you notice.

I may not have picked up my mom's cleanliness or cooking ability, but I did get nostalgic today realizing that I carry on at least one tradition. Who knew that tradition would be vacuuming the stairs.