Call At Least 10 Minutes Before You Drop By

There is something about having a blog that makes me want to bare my soul.  Why, I do not know.  Maybe it's because of the partial anonymity I feel when I'm writing on a computer screen instead of speaking face to face.  Regardless, I have another confession to make....

If you ever come to my house and it's clean or even just picked up, it's probably because I did it in a mad rush right before you got here.  Oh gosh-- it feels so good to get that off my chest!  To keep up the facade that I'm a decent housekeeper is so exhausting and stressful.  You can't imagine the fear I live in that someone will, gasp, come over unexpectedly!  (In which case you'd be amazed at what can fit into grocery sacks with lightning speed and then stacked in a room I don't think you'll be likely to visit.)  When my kids see me cleaning their very first question is, "who's coming over?".  Usually I try to act indignant and respond with something along the lines of, "do you think the only time I clean is when someone is coming over?".  But they know the answer to that: yes.  In fact, my husband is so resigned to this fact that sometimes he'll suggest we invite someone over for the sole purpose of getting our house cleaned.

Of course, I've already been discovered for who I really am by some folks.  (Although I still make some attempts to impress and fool them, to no avail.)  My sister, for one, comes and does "inspections" at times.  Surprise inspections, no less.  It's absolutely terrifying.  She's one of those irritating persons who manages to work outside the home, raise children, have a social life and keep a neat, clean, organized home.  More than once she's come over to help me get a handle on my chaos.  I wish you could see the piles of black trash bags full of junk that I eliminate from my home with her every visit-- it's beautiful.  But, without fail, my house sinks back into its former neglected state within weeks, or even days, after having been thoroughly scoured by her capable hands.  Actually, I'm always a bit amazed at how fast that happens....  And, er, come to think of it-- she hasn't come over to help me purge in a while....  Maybe she's finally given me up as a lost cause.  

I like cleanliness.  And I'm not even a messy person.  Really!  (Hey, I have no reason to lie at this point in my confessional, do I?)  I'm just not a good maid.  And I'm not a good delegator.  Beyond managing myself (which is no small task) I'm really rather a flop.  

Hmmmm, I'm feeling the need to defend myself.  After a confession isn't it customary to then be absolved of one's sins?  (Or, is that only if you commit to not repeating the sin?  Which I am in no way implying here.)  As there is no way to absolve myself via the internet, I will have to be satisfied with the relief I feel in simply confessing my waywardness.  And since I do have one or two housewifely talents (one I can tell you, one I can't...) I would like to think they somewhat make up for my lack in other areas.  After all, I keep hubby pretty darn well-satisfied in the... food department.  (What did you think I was going to say, you rascals!)

Hey, I have a brilliant little idea!  If anyone wants to trade some meals for housecleaning-- oh wow, I could be on to something there!  In any case, I will still continue to pretend that I keep an orderly house (so do try and call before you come over-- it really helps me to have that extra few minutes to hide my mess).  But at least now I don't have to bare the shame of hiding my true identity.  And, golly, I feel so close to you all right now!  Group hug!