Confession

A new friend was coming over this morning for a Reiki treatment. This was her first visit to Camp Keefe. I must confess that there was a flustered moment when I was beside myself trying to figure out how to hide the ugly truth.

I am a lousy housekeeper.

Now, as far as I know, there have been no reports filed with the Health Department and A&E hasn't sent a camera crew to our door. My domestic deficiency is one of basic neglect. I can't keep up with it all. There are teenagers coming and going. There are animals with fur. Papers pile up. Things get tracked in from outside. Dust gathers. Belongs never end up where they're supposed to go. Layer upon layer of funk, filth, and denial.

As a certified Feng Shui practitioner, our ordinary mess pains me greatly. But I could spend the whole live-long day, day after day after day, trying to keep up with it all. I could give you a thousand excuses reasons why that just won't happen. Maybe I didn't get the clean gene. My mother has it. She passed it down to my sister. They have immaculate homes. I got my father's nose instead.

Speaking of my father, I am his mother's granddaughter. She was the happiest person I've ever known and, honestly, she didn't keep a particularly clean home either. Passibly clean, yes. No infestations. No hoarding. Nothing to cause alarm. But she didn't fret about dishes in the sink, sticky spillage or the fact that white socks on her hardwood floors were doomed to darkness. She was too busy doing the cha-cha, catching a sale at Shillito's or doing something else that brought her joy. How can you not cut someone fun like that some slack?

If you come to my house, you will see dirty windows, dust bunnies, and cobwebs. There will be countless spots, stains and scuffs. The dishwasher will need to be loaded and the trash taken out. You can count on identifying at least a half-dozen locations that could benefit from a thorough scrubbing. Of course, we will make every effort to get our clutter hidden in check before your arrival. Not so much out of shame, but because we don't want you to trip and fall.

Despite our faults, I promise you this ...

You will be wholeheartedly welcomed here. You will find comfort. You will be nourished. You will laugh. And you may feel a peace here that you simply can't describe. People come to our house and they like to stick around. They kick off their shoes, curl up and exhale. So, far as I can tell, we must be doing something right.

Come on over anytime.

(But please call at least 30 minutes in advance.)