Gilding the Lily

I LOVE my new house! OK, my old/new house. As we decorated the Christmas tree yesterday, I thought again how dressing up the house is such a joy, because it is so effortless. The walls are clean, the floors unmarked, the staircase unscuffed (and as of two weeks ago, safely carpetted). A flick of the duster here, a whisk of the broom there, and everything is shining again. I do get help too, so all in all the house manages to stay clean most of the week except weekends when we totally mess it up, the kids, K. and me.

I've always loved new houses or newly-restored ones. You won't find me sentimentally lingering over "charming" old houses. Please note that this is not a paean to McMansions. It's not the size that matters, just the clean new feeling. Having grown up in a variety of creaky, crumbly old houses in India (and some new, ugly, modern flats with dismal yellow interiors - still creaky and crumbly because of the bad materials used), I have always appreciated the joys of plumbing that works, roofs that don't leak, doors that don't stick, toilets that don't make you queasy to look at them, and above all, I loved houses where the grime hadn't settled into a thick coating of black grease making cleaning a constantly unsuccessful war.

Note again, I haven't said a word about furniture. Furniture or its arrangement is relatively unimportant to me. As long as there are no bugs lurking within mattresses and cushions, I don't care whether people seat me in Louis XV grandeur or on humble floor cushions. For that matter, we don't have too much furniture in our new place either. Maybe that's part of the reason for loving the house. Because it's relatively uncluttered still (except for the kids' clutter) and therefore easy to keep clean.