My No. 1 son will be with me in a few days, and so I began looking at my house through his eyes. He is a man of taste, after all. Most of my attention went to the niche in the livingroom, where he will be sleeping on a futon for a week. It was covered with cobwebs and dead insects, as well as peels of paint that come off the niche walls, and so I vacuumed it as carefully as I could this afternoon. As I was at it, I kept shaking my head in awe. I could not believe the mess in front of my eyes. To the best of my reckoning, the last time I vacuumed the livingroom must have been a few years ago. By the time I was finished with my job, which took only a few minutes, I found myself in an unexpected conundrum. Should I be ashamed of my poor upkeep of the house, and especially the niche, or should I be proud of it? Shame is not exactly my forte, but neither is pride. Still, I was leaning towards pride for my lack of concern about such trifles. In the end, I decided to go for neither option. The next time anyone comes for a visit, I will vacuum the niche once again. And that will be that.