Four Corners of a Situation Room

This time of year our dining room is used for everything EXCEPT dining.


Instead, in the weeks leading up to The Great Exodus which is otherwise known as Masters Week, it becomes The Situation Room. Think of it as Headquarters, Home Base, Mission Control, Central Dispatch, and War Room rolled into one.


Our Situation Room is a disorganized organized system of multi-tasking. It can be a little frightening to venture in, and between now and Masters Sunday it will only get worse, but rest assured that before we leave it will POOF! return to being a dining room.


In the meantime, though, here's what's going on (clockwise from top):


Corner 1: Planning a 50th anniversary party means stockpiling vases, decorations, bonbonniere, candles, and Jordan almonds.


Corner 2: Those framed prints are on Joe's Honey-do List. And the Zazzle boxes? My files containing guest list, save-the-date cards, invitations, deejay info, catering info, reception menu ... I mean, it's like I'm planning a wedding. My parents should just go ahead and get married again.


Corner 3: In between planning a party, preparing to rent our house for Masters Week, and doing all the normal, every day stuff I always do (cooking, cleaning, carpooling), I also have to work. So my work station is set up in the middle of The Situation Room so I can write, assemble bonbonniere, and fold sheets all at the same time!


Corner 4: Did I mention Master's prep? Freshly laundered sheets and towels are folded and stacked on the dining room table waiting to be carried upstairs.

Bring it On

Need to clean up the local government? Purge Washington politics? Organize our new health care system?

Well, just hire any woman from Augusta who, in preparing her home to rent during Masters Week, has turned spring cleaning into an art form. We purge closets, drawers, and cabinets and sort clothes and toys; we wipe and dust baseboards, ceiling fans, walls, stair risers, and door frames; we turn Swiffer into a verb (here, go swiffer the blinds), wash the washing machine, become best friends with Mr. Clean and his Magic Erasers, and as each room is finished we lock the door so husband and children won’t un-do what we have just done.

Having strangers come stay in your home is a huge incentive for making a good impression. Do we honestly think that someone who has come to Augusta to attend the golf tournament is going to judge us if there is dust on the baseboards or if the flatware drawer is in shambles?

You bet we do.

So we put flowers on nightstands and amenity baskets in the bathrooms. We place neatly stacked towels in the linen closet and a luggage rack in each bedroom. We hang a wreath on the front door and put out a new welcome mat.

Arrange, assemble, group, classify, categorize, purge, systematize, methodize, orchestrate, manage, conduct, administrate, mobilize ... the women of Augusta do it all. Think we can't run a country?

Global politics? World peace? Vladimir Putin?
Bring them on.

Exodus

The day before THE EXODUS, and things kick into gear.

For those who don't live in this area, there is this little tournament called the Masters which not only puts our city on the international scene for a week, but it also generates income for those of us who rent our homes.

It's a nice gig, but it is a lot of work. I feel as if I have been cleaning for a month. The plus side is that every year our home gets a spring cleaning like you wouldn't believe.  Windows are washed, new pine straw is spread, and hanging ferns adorn the front porch. Closets, drawers, and cabinets get purged. Clothes and toys get sorted. Baseboards, ceiling fans, walls, stair risers, and door frames are wiped and dusted.

Mr. Clean Magic Eraser is my best friend.

Since we leave tomorrow and it's hard to clean with people who undo what I have just done, the boys are spending tonight with i nonni so I can finish every room completely and then just deal with the master bedroom in the morning.

I'm telling you it takes orchestration. Think I can't run the country?

Of course, there are always last minute problems. Last night the company renting our home called wanting to make sure that a) we have propane in our gas grill (we do!) and b) dry wood for our fire pit (uh, oh).

Guess what three somebodies will be foraging the woods behind our house and gathering firewood this morning?

So, I really need to quit blogging, finish my cappuccino, and get swiffering.

Oh, did I mention that I also changed out all shelf liners?

P.S. If you want to find out how in the world I rented our home after just giving birth the week before, go here.