It wasn't like that when I left. . .

Last night I bit the bullet and started knocking stuff off of my infamous "to do" list. It began with a weighing of sorts: some things just had to be cut. Prioritization is the first step, right?

The house is clean, at least it was when I went to bed last night. I make you no promises about its appearance this morning.

I headed home yesterday as a woman with a mission. I entered, donned appropriate cleaning attire and went to work. I vacuumed floors. I mopped floors. I dusted surfaces. I scrubbed surfaces. I washed everything in sight. By the time Cynical arrived there were only a few tasks left, mostly "light weight" house cleaning duties. As he knocked a few of those off his own list, I took on the task of putting everything back together. (Sometimes I think I make a bigger mess when I clean than I had in the first place. . . kitchen chairs scattered to clear room for mopping, cleaning supplies all over the house, throw rugs on couches and beds. . . )

As I walked into the living room, Cynical, seated on the couch, declared, "Whew. I am so tired." To which I gave him a look that only I can give, which translated says, "I have been at this for two hours, your 30 minutes worth of chores could not have lead to exhaustion. Crawl around on your hands and knees cleaning the den floor and baseboards, suck up at least 30 pounds of cat hair and litter, lug this mop and bucket around and then we'll talk tired." Poor thing, he didn't know what he'd implied. . . or did he? His response to the glare, "You are thinking, 'Why is he complaining?', aren't you?" Sometimes he gets it right. (Most of the time actually.) So he joined me in finishing up for the night.

Needlefingers and Pilot should feel very honored in that I mopped the floors in preparation for their arrival. Of all the chores I do, I most dislike mopping. I know it has to be done. I know my threshhold for dirty floors increases with my age, but I certainly hate for a guest to have to live with them, so in honor of their arrival, they are cleaned, sparkling and magnificent, or at least they were when I went to bed last night. They are wonderful guests and I know aren't coming to critique my housekeeping (the bestest kind of guests, actually), but I so hate for anyone to see our house in the state it was in, no matter how kind they are.

It always amazes me how good it feels to have your house clean and organized. I think that often it helps you clear your mind, not only the actual labor of it, but when everything else is uncluttered, your mind seems to follow suit. Cynical doesn't ascribe to this line of thinking, but he does humor me from time to time.

Here's to a big weekend. Cynical and I are excited about the arrival of our guests, antsy with anticipation.