Housekeeping 101

Well, Saturday night BuffaloBoy made me dinner at his house. We usually hang out at my place for the sheer convenience of it all, and the fact that Boy is vocal about not being a good housekeeper. I usually pooh-pooh that, saying that I like friends for who they are, not how they keep their house.

I arrived at the set time of about 7:30 and, surprise, Boy is not ready. In fact, he hasn't showered yet, telling me that he has been running around cleaning and cooking all day. He has also already broken into the wine, using some of it to marinade the lamb (delicious!) and has had a glass himself. I volunteer to go grab another bottle while he pops into the shower.

As I arrive back at his crib, I see him in the backyard working feverishly at the grill. The lamb smells divine (he actually is a good cook) and I can't wait for dinner.

When I walk inside, I am amazed at the kitchen. Even though he has sworn that he has been working "all day," to a girl's eyes, it just doesn't look like it. Fast forward to his thoughts that he worked on his kitchen and bathroom, watched two movies on TV, went to the grocery twice and the drugstore once. So I figure his cleaning time, with all those distractions, was down to about 45 minutes. No wonder it still looked like a bachelor pad.

This got me thinking about different men I've dated and their different houses. The Torch's apartment is funky and cool, fairly neat and tidy. Much like his personality and owing to his job in the "arts." The Pilot's house was always neat and tidy too, which makes sense. He was a clothes horse and always dressed very particularly. The Accountant's house was a jumble. Papers everywhere and a pool table in the living room!

I promised the Boy that I would help him make a dent. Truly, it's not the "guy's apartment" right out of college that you swore you would never set foot in again. It just needs a little touch-up and he needs to learn some tip and tricks of the housekeeping trade. I guess that most men don't learn this from their moms like the girls do.

And so I move on....apparently with a dust cloth in my hand.

P.S. The dinner and evening were delightful.