Rattle Those Pots and Pans

Tom's son, Michael, is coming to visit this weekend so I guess it's time to clean house. The last time we had company was June--rather soon to get the sweeper and dust pan out again, but we must present an image of clean and neat, right? Oh, did I say we? I meant to say I, as the woman of the house, must present an image of clean and neat because that is my job; that is what is expected of me. But, before you go thinking it's my husband--the man of the house--with the expectations, it's not him.

Early in life I was given a set of requirements that, as a female, I must follow. My mother, all four of my aunts, my grandmother, the ladies at the church, the next-door neighbor-ladies, my teachers, and the women on our little 12" black and white television ALL followed the rules of our gender. Who was I to question such a powerful group of rule-followers?  To not live up to their high expectations and standards of behavior was to risk criticism, admonishment, judgment, and a failing grade, and the consequence of failure could, for some women (me, for example), produce shame and guilt.

Every single one of those rule-followers that I mentioned above is gone now, yet they are still judging me, and as hard as I try to please them--okay, that's a lie; I'm not trying very hard--I am still getting an F in House Keeping.  They think I should spend less time working in my shop, digging in my garden, installing split-rail fencing, foraging trails through the woods, building cottages and outhouses, and writing blogs. "That's not women's work," they all say in unison. "You've got company coming. Dust that coffee table! Mop that floor! Clean those windows! Get in the kitchen and rattle those pots and pans!" 

I know I should do as they say; it's my gender's duty. But...but...but...