JOY ALONG THE WAY: QUICK FIXES FOR QUICK COMPANY

Closets, cabinets, chests and drawers are the Big Four that can make a not-so-neat homemaker look well organized, Good Housekeeping approved and at ease when someone calls and says, "I'd like to drop by. About five minutes?"

Quick, into the waste container in the broom closet goes the week-old flower arrangement whose blossoms are forming seeds, some having already spilled onto the tablecloth. While you've got that closet door open, in goes the broom that doesn't seem to know where its home is, preferring the open air of the porch, sometimes the front porch where you leaned it on the railing while you inspected some petunias and where five-minute company arrives.

Scribbled-on scratch pads, half-typed pages, opened daily journal, several pens and pencils and possibly the scissors and a pin cushion, all sharing the same table top as the drooping flower arrangement, can be gathered up in one swoop and deposited hastily in the nearby toy chest. Old Teddy Bear doesn't mind, but the Christmas mouse might squeak if it gets hit in the right place. "Please," I implore of the ceiling, "don't let anything shift in there later and disturb the mouse."

Newspapers on the floor around your favorite chair, opened magazines here and there, and the shoes you took off an hour ago can be picked up in the twinkling of an eye and pushed into the linen closet, hoping falling toilet paper and tissue boxes, soap, paper napkins, sheets, a vase, a jar of pennies, etc. don't halt your progress. And while you've got that door open, you can, if lucky, snatch a clean towel to replace the still damp one on the bathroom towel bar.

What's that half-empty iced-tea glass doing on the TV? Quick, put it behind the refrigerator door.

Yourself? You can't put yourself in a closet. Hurry, a car is turning in the driveway. Run a comb through your hair. Straighten your collar, pull up your slacks. Answer the door knock. "Hello, do come in. I've just been thinking of you."

Part of Mama's strategy to get her three daughters to help with the cleaning was, "Now, let's play like we're going to have company today." Thus, she made a game of it and we happily joined in. "I'll dust the piano," one would offer. "I'll straighten the mantle," another would say.

If one didn't choose quickly she might be left with sweeping, dusting, cleaning the lamp chimneys or picking up the rags, such rags being old sheets and shirts Grandma had been tearing into carpet strips.

"Will our company have tea?" Lillian might ask. Mama would pause and pretend much thought as to whether we could expect Mrs. Stacy, Mrs. Zimmer, Mrs. McFarland or, Mercy! the truant officer. We never missed school, but the truant officer was someone to be wary of, even if he was our uncle.

The silver tea pot was polished, just in case. If Ruby McFarland was to be expected, the sheet music, "Moonlight and Roses, was placed on the piano music rack, in the hope Ruby would play for us.

When everything was in order, we sat down to admire. We had tea and afterwards Lillian would pick out with one finger the melody of "Moonlight and Roses."

My telephone rings! Oh my. I give a quick look around to see what I can do in five minutes. How full are the drawers, the closets, the chests? Any more room?

"Hey, I'd like to stop by in about five minutes. Can't come in."

"Oh, do please come in and stay a while. I was just thinking of you."

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.