Some things in life are sacred. For some it’s their morning coffee, for others maybe it’s the 6 a.m. tee-off on Saturday they wait all week for. For me, it’s home. Small though it may be, as we covered last week, it remains the one place where I don’t have to entertain, cater to or otherwise impress anyone but family. It is for this and several other reasons that I absolutely cannot stand surprise visits, or, sneak attacks, as I call them at home—where it doesn’t matter that it sounds mean.
Your home is the ultimate safety zone. It is the one place where you don’t have to “keep up appearances” or “fake it ‘till you make it.” You can wear super comfy clothes that don’t match and no make-up; you can even watch a marathon of The Hills. Who cares? Who’s there to see you watching bad TV instead of working out like you should be? No one. At home, you can do whatever you want—no one is there to comment or judge, no one is there to give their opinion at all. It’s a beautiful thing.
This of course, is excluding family. Sometimes there’s no way to get around unsolicited advice or intrusions on your time from family, but it’s alright. That is what families do and it’s what makes a house a home. I don’t think I’m ever actually home alone. Either Chris or Aiden, but usually both of them, are there with me, too. As much as I’d love a Saturday morning where I woke up on my own and not to the sound of something crashing to the floor—I know that won’t be happening for years to come so I’ve found ways to relax and feel at ease with them. Now I can even read while the two of them have a light saber duel and pay the bills during heated superhero battles. This type of interference I find totally acceptable. It’s when it comes from outside sources that a sneak attack inflicts the most damage.
When a friend, co-worker or anyone other than my immediate family shows up unannounced I instantly feel uneasy. I start casually picking up the apartment, scanning the kitchen for too-dirty dishes, basically freaking out that someone might think my place is messy. I cannot stand messes and do my best to keep up with the house, but sometimes trying is not enough. Sometimes a night, or two, will go by without my washing the dinner dishes before bed, or the “breakfast pie” Aiden made while I was in the shower—olive oil, cocoa powder, baking soda, carrot sticks and orange juice all layered in a pie plate—sits on the kitchen counter for two days before being put down the disposal. Things like this I should be able to keep to myself, not be forced to share with anyone who decides to pop over to borrow my iPod or return a book.
I can’t imagine a scenario in which a sneak attack is unavoidable in today’s highly technologically-advanced society. There are cell phones, Blackberries, video phones, IMing, texting and even pagers and home phones for all the dinosaurs out there. How could it be that the unsuspecting victim was ever unreachable?
“Oh we just wanted to stop by real quick,” some say.
To them, a simple truth must be told. You are being inconsiderate. People have their own lives and make their own plans and I’m guessing that dropping everything for you is not involved at all. Call first. Showing up on someone’s doorstep is just rude.
“My phone died when I tried to call on the way over,” say others.
This is why mankind invented chargers, people. Use them. Better still, you should make plans before even leaving the house. It doesn’t make sense to spend your time stopping somewhere you aren’t sure will be worth your time.
Often, Chris and I have pretended to be out when someone knocked on the door, just because we didn’t feel like dealing with company. Especially uninvited company. Is this maybe a bit crazy? Sure. Mean even? Probably. But the little time left for us at the end of the day is something I don’t want to loose to anything let alone door-to-door religious people or friends who can’t pick up a phone.
Call it unreasonable, call it anti-social, call it whatever you want as long as you call it in ahead of time.
