Knock

I get up early and, without bothering to get dressed, I start writing.  At 10 am, I am still sitting on the sofa, snuggled under my blanket, tapping away at my keyboard. My husband Andy appears with mugs of tea so I close my laptop, and we sit for a while and sip and chat.

And then I say, “I suppose I ought to shower and get dressed. What if someone knocks on our door and sees me in my pyjamas?”

We both laugh. How likely is that to happen? No one knocks at doors any more. I could wear my pyjamas all day every day and no one would ever know.

I could also ignore the housework. Why worry about keeping our home tidy when no one will see it? Why continue to keep up appearances? Actually, we’re not. On Easter Sunday, while I was hiding eggs for my kids, I discovered lots of dust and cobwebs. When I remarked on them, Imogen said, “Don’t worry, Mum, no one will ever know.”

My daughter is right. What does it matter what our home looks like at the moment? As long as we have one huge clean-up on the day that the coronavirus restrictions are lifted, no one will ever suspect we let our housework slip. We’ll be ready once again if anyone knocks on our door.

“When was the last time someone knocked on our door?” I ask.

“The postman rang the bell a few days ago,” says Andy.

“But we didn’t see him. He just dropped the parcels on the doorstep and ran.”

“Perhaps he’s worried about germs.”

“Or maybe he thinks Quinn is dangerous.” Our dog barks loudly whenever she sees the postman. I’ve tried explaining that she’s friendly, but the postman doesn’t seem to believe me.

“If we don’t count the postman, when did we last see someone at our door?”

“When did the restrictions begin?” asks Andy. “A few weeks ago?”

“No, we haven’t seen anyone for a lot longer than that.”

“During the bushfires, the fire commander rang the doorbell. Do you remember how he asked us if we have a swimming pool and warned us to watch out for embers?”

“Firefighters don’t count. When was the last time we had real visitors?”

We’re quiet as we think and then Andy says, “A very long time ago.”

Yes, we haven’t had any visitors for longer than we can remember. I wonder why that is. Did we just get busy? Or are we lazy? Because it takes effort, doesn’t it, to ring someone and say, “Hey, would you like to come over for dinner?”? And once the invitation has been accepted, we feel we have to clean the house which might involve a lot of work. “Look at the muddy paw prints on the sliding door. The grass needs cutting. Is the bathroom guest-friendly?” we ask.

It’s much easier to let friendships slip than do housework. Which is rather sad. Because friends are worth tidying up for, aren’t they? Or maybe the state of our home doesn’t matter to our true friends. They don’t notice the dust. They’re too busy taking an interest in us.

But at the moment, we can relax and not worry about dust and cobwebs and things out of place. It’s very unlikely that someone will knock at our door.

You know what? I wish a friend would suddenly appear. If that happened, I wouldn’t panic and wonder: is the bathroom guest-friendly?  I’d smile and say, “Come on in. It’s so good to see you!”

As long as there’s a roll of toilet paper hanging in the bathroom, nothing else matters, does it?

That reminds me: today is a fabulous day because I managed to buy some toilet rolls. There were still a few packets sitting on the shelf when I hurried down the most popular aisle in the supermarket. For once, I didn’t arrive a few minutes too late.

Photo by Behzad Ghaffarian on Unsplash