I would have failed as a 1950's TV wife.

I was lamenting the ethereal nature of finished housework to a friend today and realized once again that housework would be so much easier if I didn't have any stuff. Can you imagine how clean I could keep things without the papers, the books, the dishes, the toys, the gadgets, the furniture, the clothes?

In fact, my parents lived a lot like that for a while when they were in Central Minnesota (motto: "Watery and full of mosquitos. But pretty. You betcha.") They had bought a double-wide trailer in a very rural area because that was where their jobs were, and for some reason just never got around to getting furniture. Well, they had beds -- I can't think of a reason anyone would willingly sleep on the floor in a state known for cold drafts -- and they had a dining table and some chairs, but that was pretty much it. No living room furniture, no bookshelves full of books, a few clothes, no TV for a while.

And they liked it.

For a couple years they didn't change the furniture situation. When we visited, there were some mattresses for us on the floor in the living room. It was roomy, I'll say that much. And it was also easy to keep clean. Of course, by then there were no small children, and that always helps.

When my parents bought this house after deciding to move to Utah, it was also pristinely non-furnitured for a long time. The carpet always seemed to have vacuum marks in it because no one ever walked on it. That was before we moved in, of course.

We brought with us beds and books and kids' clothes, dressers and bookshelves. And, of course, books. Loads and loads of books. We brought small children, as well, and added to them over the years, ensuring a constant crop of crumbs on the floor, dirty smears on the walls, and nose smudges on the windows. With us came the need for more than three or four plates. In fact, we apparently need about 100 plates, cups and bowls, all of which are dirty at any given time no matter how many children have been assigned to dish duty. Ditto the silverware. Especially the spoons.

Eventually a dining table and chairs were added. Someone brought up the crazy idea of living room furniture, and it was all downhill from there. The years have brought with them the detritus of pre-school, school age and finally teen-age kids. When I get energetic and ambitious enough, I try to cull our papers and books and toys and...stuff. But more keeps coming in.

It also doesn't help that I'm lazy. I hate the mundane day-to-day maintenence. HATE it. I know I have to, and sometimes I get all excited about getting rid of everything extra and keeping this place clean by merely putting in a couple hours a day. (Ha!) It's just getting there.

And I'm so easily distracted by more interesting things.

Ah, well. It's all part of the struggle. Husband is very understanding; he also loathes dishes. But we all enjoy a clean and tidy house, so it's a struggle worth continuing. I also have learned not to equate my self-worth with my lack of innate cleaning ambitions.

But just to be on the safe side, please call before you come. Thank you.