When we’re expecting company at home, I usually give the place a quick look and declare to my wife that all looks good. It’s clean enough. She, on the other hand, flies from room to room like a tornado, sucking up everything in her path in a quest to tidy up our surroundings. I always figure that anyone who comes to visit should see us in our natural habitat. We’re not really messy but we don’t hold our breath waiting to be featured on the cover of House Beautiful either.

Guys just don’t see clutter. We don’t see crumbs on the kitchen counter and we know better than to look under the furniture and sofa cushions—unless the remote control has vanished. We don’t “do” embroidered guest towels or panic that someone might find a dirty dish in the sink. We eat, therefore, we make dirty dishes. It’s a fact of life.

But not long ago, I decided to open up my workshop at ClearLake Furniture. This July, I’m going to teach whoever is interested how to make a rocking chair. Students of this weekend class will actually craft a classic, lodge-style rocking chair. I’ve never had anyone use this equipment other than my team of skilled craftsmen. Sure, we have customers tour the workshop every day, but this time, they’ll be working, not watching.

So, I’m starting to understand my wife’s pre-visit angst. I’ve got lots of time to get ready for the “guests” but I’m already looking at ways to fix up the place. There are things you overlook in the day-to-day world when you go through the paces. In the workshop, you always know where everything is. You know the subtleties of the tools, what makes a piece of wood the right choice, and where every bump in the floor is lurking. You take it all for granted. Now I’m thinking that maybe I need to assume some of the primping here in the workshop that I always mocked at home. Guests are coming and they’re going to stay awhile.

My mother used to say to my brother and me, “You weren’t raised in a barn!” Well, even though my guests will actually be working in the barn we converted into ClearLake Furniture, I guess Mom’s words—and my wife’s tidiness—will have to take precedence over my guy rules…for one weekend, at least.