I had a new fan installed in my living room yesterday. The guy got here around 9 and was gone by 1 so it didn't take up the whole day. I had a miserable head cold so I didn't want to go anywhere any way. The guy worked hard and didn't bother me much. He just went along and got the job done. He was going to fix the fan in the back room too but that has to wait for another day.(long boring story)
Anyway, I had to laugh at myself. I was possessed with looking busy. I felt pretty crappy but I still did laundry and made the bed and cleaned the bathroom and cleaned the utility room. By the time he was gone I was exhausted. Why did I feel I had to impress this guy with my housekeeping skills? I must have blown my nose one hundred thousand times so he knew I was sick. I don't think he would have judged me too harshly if I had been sitting around reading a book or watching television.
What silly notion did I have in my head? That he would tell the Housewife Police that I was a slacker? He would go home and tell his own wife what a lazy old thing I was? As I collapsed on the couch after he left, I realized that I really did too much. I didn't even move the rest of the afternoon except to pick up a tissue or a throat lozenge.
The funniest thing is I probably will never see this guy again! Oh, if he can fix my other fan I will but he is not a permanent fixture in my life. What silly standards we set for ourselves sometimes.