You know when you repeatedly encounter a phrase or sentiment, and by like, the third time you’re thinking — hmmm, maybe there’s something to this? Or perhaps the incidents seem completely unrelated, but you see a common thread running through them? I’ve had that recently around the idea of house perfection.
The first time was last week when a friend popped by and my house was a mess. I apologized but she quickly responded, “no, it’s nice. It’s lived in.” The next was experiencing a host who kept clearing dishes before the guests were finished. The third happened last Saturday while wandering around a box store with my husband and daughter. “I really want us to have more ‘real’ plants in our house,” he said. “Well, I love them but I’m terrible at taking care of them,” I replied, “If we decide to do that — it needs to be your responsibility to keep them alive.” He looked at me blankly and said, “I’m already the one who does that.” “Ha! Well then, we‘re making it official,” I concluded. 😉
So how are these connected? No matter how tempting it is to equate coziness with perfection — they aren’t necessarily one and the same. And then there’s us — maybe we need to accept we just can’t do it all perfectly all the time. Stains happen, your favorite mug shatters, the plant shrivels up, someone unexpectedly drops by and you still have yesterday’s mascara under your eyes. Oddly enough, these things don’t destroy coziness. In fact, they may just help cultivate it.
I used to be a hardcore everything-in-it’s-place-and-matchy-matchy kind of girl. Until a family of 5 moved in with us for 3 months. By the end, I couldn’t remember which throw pillows went where or when I last dusted — but we were closer than ever.
Bottom line, if we’re going to create welcoming spaces for real people — we have to accept stuff’s going to happen, and loosen our grasp on perfection. We may have to face our own house shame, fear of judgment or fear of damage. I still sometimes battle that stuff, but I’ve resolved that who does life within these walls is infinitely more important than what hangs on them.
I was texting with a friend last night about Christmas decorating and she casually mentioned once inheriting a box of tacky (but-not-in-a-charming-way) ornaments which she labeled in permanent marker, “things I keep out of guilt.” While the honesty made me laugh, I haven’t been able to shake the concept. I keep wondering, how many things do we have cluttering up our shelves, attic corners and headspace, simply out of obligation? Of course, I’m not recommending you cause a family rift or dispose of valuable family heirlooms, but I do think the idea is worth exploring – at least internally. There’s a reason why Marie Kondo’s approach to purging has been so widely received – sometimes we just need permission to let things go.