When my son used to come home from boarding school for the December holidays, I breathed a sigh of relief. The housework after office hours had been getting us all down. My daughter had been on night duty at the hospital, my husband wasn't well, and I seemed to have so many outside activities going that even the weekends couldn't give me enough time to keep everything up to date. I made a final all-out effort to get the house clean and tidy before my son arrived. Then I asked him to take over.
Home job
He had taken holiday jobs before and had been offered one again this time, but he turned it down and worked for us instead. And he is the most incredible worker. He kept his brothers and sisters under control without effort. He made the house shine like a new pin. The beds were made with precision, the kitchen was shone up with a dry cloth after being washed with a wet cloth, and he was thorough with the vacuum cleaner and the dust cloth.
There was only one flaw: he simply stuffed anything he found lying around into the nearest drawer or cupboard.
Lost in tidiness
My house was not big enough for a family of eight, and everything had its place; not because I'm so precise but because I had no option. But a week after my son took over domestic duties, we couldn't find a thing. Whether it was a pen, a needle, a pair of scissors, a hairbrush, a brother shoe or a teapot we were searching for, it simply couldn't be found. It was simpler to go out and buy a new tin opener or a potato knife then to open those overstuffed drawers.
My husband was no help when I went to him to complain. He thought my son's hoarding instincts were hilarious. "He's a boy", he said indulgently. "What do you expect?"
Things couldn't go on
Much though I enjoyed my rest, things couldn't go on like this. My son had an appointment in Pietersburg for December 16th that year, and I laid my plans. The 16th being a holiday, I took the 15th and 17th off from work as well, donned my apron, and got to work.
On the morning of the 15th I saw my son off at the station. As we said goodbye to each other, we reached a peak of mutual affection we had seldom felt since the time when he was small and told my sister:
"Auntie, I'm happy for a mom."
Help at hand
He was off, and I thought of how much I loved him, drove home, and got stuck into the house. Catherine Nicolette was off work, and she started at the other end. Holding up the detachable bristle part of my hairbrush, I said to her: "Won't we look well groomed for Christmas?" Whereupon she produced the nail scissors from the piano stool.
I had this oak furniture I would never allow anyone to touch with furniture polish, preferring to settle for elbow grease. But after my son's cavalier treatment of my dining room suite, I was forced to buy some.
Order restored
By late afternoon, order had been restored to the cupboards. My hair rollers were back in their vanity case; needle and cotton reposed in the sewing box; Catherine's peep-toe shoes had been triumphantly rescued from under a pair of heavy boots in the monk's bench in the boys' room, and she was making the furniture shine like the sun.
"This stuff's marvellous", she said, holding up the tin like the woman in the television commercial. "You must always use it, then people will think you know what's potting."
Unexpected return
I was still pondering the obscurity of this remark when my son was brought in by his brothers and sisters, whom we had banned to the garden for the duration of our cleaning spree.
"What on earth are you doing here?" my daughter demanded.
"Well, I live here", he countered, "and I hope you're not turning me out. I've carried this case back all the way from the station."
It turned out that he had fallen asleep on the train. No one had told him that he was to change to the Johannesburg train at Henneman, so when he opened his eyes he found himself back in Welkom.
The reason why
He had got out of the train uncomprehendingly, then had to jump on again as it set off to Allanridge with his luggage. Having spent several hours in Allanridge, he was again taken back to Welkom, from where he walked all the way home with his suitcase.
And that was the reason why he did not attend the ordination of the priest on December 16. Our family offered our belated congratulations in writing, which my son would have given if only our excellent organisation had not blown up into our faces...
*Photograph taken by Catherine Nicolette of the beautiful Free State in South Africa..
Please feel free to use photo copyright free for any worthy purpose
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