Why is it that we can live in a less-than-clean house but expect it to meet a different standard for company? Why don’t we deem ourselves worthy of that standard?
Getting ready for our company reminded me of our dear friends who were contacted by an elderly former resident of their house who asked if she might come for a visit the next time she was in town. In order to show her that they were good stewards of the house, they even cleaned their offices. They felt safe thinking that she wouldn’t open closets. But she did! I should explain that their home’s master bedroom has a large closet with a window in it - a common feature of the gracious homes built in the early 1900’s. She just wanted to see it one more time.
Fortunately, it was not Fibber McGee’s closet.
Isn't it interesting that they did not re-shoot his flubbed lines?
I Don't Feel Older
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