<\/p>\n
A pile of dirt sits aside a broom, spilled cheerios are glued all over the floor and drying laundry is succumbing to wrinkles on the dining room table when the doorbell rings.<\/p>\n
You have just scanned the war-zone that is your home and made the smart decision that you\u2019ll take a much-needed rest before you turn into a cleaning cyclone. The morning was hectic and it\u2019s as if every one of your tasks exploded in mess. But for now, the disaster will have to wait. Oh, but so will the nap. Remember? The doorbell is ringing. You sigh an end-of-life \u201cyou got to be kidding me\u201d kind of sigh \u2013 jaw dropped and shoulder slouched. You\u2019re not expecting any packages, but you\u2019re praying it\u2019s just the UPS guy. He\u2019s the only person you wouldn\u2019t mind seeing your house like this.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is it?\u201d you ask, immediately regretting you didn\u2019t just ignore the door and make a tip-toed beeline to your room.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Dina, open up!\u201d<\/p>\n
In the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, your neighbor has come to say hi. In the age of text messaging, you secretly wonder why on earth your beloved friend didn\u2019t send notice of her impending visit. But you open the door without revealing a hint of hesitation. And, actually, you show glee.<\/p>\n
\u201cDina, hi! What a nice surprise!\u201d (In your head your thinking \u201cSurprise? Yes. Nice? No!\u201d)<\/p>\n
She steps inside (the cheerios go crunch) and, in the moment of just-arrived silence, you start to feel embarrassed for subjecting Dina to the catastrophe that is your home. Before you can relax with Dina\u2019s presence, you must make the caveat sung across messy homes worldwide. You must clear the air (metaphorically, of course) before Dina makes conclusions about your ability to run a household, control your kids and your prowess as a do-everything-and-do-it-well certified woman. Before her eyes can properly assess the disaster-stuck region that is your humble \u2013 yes, extremely humble \u2013 abode, you have something to say. Unpreventable, out it comes.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry for the mess.\u201d<\/p>\n
It is with these four words that women all over the world accept friends, foes and, yes, sometimes even the UPS guy, into their homes. It\u2019s an explanation that must premise anyone\u2019s arrival into our world of clutter, grime, piles and spills. Like a red carpet of sorts, the apology is our respectful welcome. It seems that the most cleanly woman, and even the house worked on by maids all week, will have a mess to apologize for.<\/p>\n
No matter the home, lifestyle, or personality; if you\u2019re a woman, chances are you\u2019ve extended your \u201csorry\u201ds for exposing an innocent arrival to what you believe to be an inexcusable mess.But deep down, are we really sorry? Does any woman, with all her roles and chores, genuinely get down on herself for not maintaining a consistently sparkling home? Whether we work in our out of the house, we are all working women. Our home is our office, our studio, our not-always-so-safe haven of family, food and frenzy. While it may be reasonable to expect of ourselves to clean at the end of the day, it\u2019s preposterous to assume that our living quarters will always be presentable (especially for a surprise guest). When it comes to ourselves, we take the mess lightly, knowing that we can have everything back in order in no time. It\u2019s only when someone else is privy to the whirlwind that we suddenly act embarrassed. Another person\u2019s presence somehow makes us insecure. We feel judged, as if perhaps we\u2019re the only woman in the universe that has a home that looks like this<\/em>.<\/p>\n Every woman, then, is a little two-faced. You see, we\u2019ve all been on the receiving end of the apologizing host. We\u2019ve all showed up to someone else\u2019s house only to hear the same insincere and obligatory \u201csorry\u201d for the mess. One hundred percent of the time, how do we respond? \u201cOh, please! Stop apologizing.\u201d We do this because, for one, the house doesn\u2019t actually look that bad. Secondly, we immediately identify and can\u2019t tolerate someone else feeling sorry \u2013 or feeling that they need to act like they\u2019re sorry \u2013 for something that is completely normal. Full lives leave a mark. My house gets messy. Your house gets messy. Why even mention it? You might as well say, \u201cI\u2019m sorry for my life.\u201d<\/p>\n When will we stop faking apologies for the messes in our hectic homes? Probably never. It\u2019s sort of like the way we dismiss people when they tell us we look good (even when we might secretly agree). It\u2019s like we feel the burden of this silent expectation that has become etiquette. But at the very least, we should recognize the nonsense in apologizing for the disarray. The women who genuinely thinks she must excuse a mess when someone arrives at the door \u2013 if she thinks they actually deserve <\/em>an apology \u2013 she is pardoning her life and should be embarrassed only for that. Always remember before you apologize: you are a superwoman regardless of the chaotic presentation of our home. And actually, you and I both know\u2026our messy homes are only further proof of all our prowess. Come nightfall, things usually return to their original state. If someone happens to see things in the middle of the day\u2019s drama that is your beautifully busy life \u2013 yes, you\u2019ll probably say you\u2019re sorry. And when you do, just make sure to honor yourself and women everywhere by making sure your apology is completely, utterly and one hundred percent insincere<\/em>. \ufeff<\/p>\n