HOSTING WITHOUT IMPRESSING
The way I did it.
I put down the paint brush.
On Sunday night, I was crouched on the floor, nail gun in hand, and installing wood baseboards in my family room. Mind you, this is an item that has been on my “to do” list for no less than 10 years … one of those projects that has been out of sight and out of mind.
But I had my tools out fixing some other things, and my practical self took over, saying it would take more time to get the tools out again than to install the boards … besides, my mom and brother were arriving on Monday and I wanted the house to look nice, which meant that there I was, on the floor, at nine o’clock at night.
The view from down there, surrounded by dust bunnies and dog fur, wasn’t so great. I could easily find other things in need of my attention. I was tired. I knew I had a busy work week, and then a lightbulb went off. The only way anyone would see the newly installed baseboards was if they were lying on the floor—and why would anyone be lying on the floor? Truthfully, I hope nobody does this.
I was preparing my house as if for a performance—a Pinterest debut. And who was I trying to impress? In case you are wondering, not one of my expected guests was a writer for Better Homes & Gardens.
At the start of the week, I set out to do a complete spring cleaning. By Sunday, I had managed to dust one room and wash one set of curtains out of six. I sprayed the guest room sheets with lavender water rather than ironing them with it. And when my company arrived on Monday, I was still mopping the floors. I looked up from the mop bucket to greet them and announced that two rooms in the house were closed to visitors. My cleaning bucket hadn’t made it to the office or the master bedroom.
When the entire family gathered for dinner, the party clumped and congregated in the kitchen, as parties always do. Then something happened. I stopped serving and started participating. My aunts offered to help, and I let them! When I left the kitchen, so did everyone else. We sat outside under the rusted and slightly leaning pergola, surrounded by half-green palm trees that were still recovering from the recent freeze and laughed about it! None of that mattered. We shared stories about growing up and growing old and anecdotes about life’s curve balls for hours. My uncles are so much more interesting than I ever knew! Precocious teenagers, talented musicians, and seasoned world travelers—by motorcycle no less!
I’ve written about using the good stuff. We have good stuff. Not perfect stuff but good stuff. The next day, I could have felt ruffled because the dishwasher was loaded wrong or because the leftovers were put into containers that didn’t match and were piled haphazardly in the refrigerator. But I wasn’t.
This experiment was not about lowering standards as much as it was about lowering the pressure to be perfect. I’d still like the house to be clean and the food to be ready on time, but serving as hostess is not as important as participating in the party.
The way I did it. Hosting without impressing.
This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.
Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers - Thank you for supporting my work!
Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.