Grit for the Grundge

I've got company coming tonight, and I have spent the last three days cleaning. We cleaned the garage and pressure washed the house (just because it needed it, not necessarily for the company.) I've also cleaned the inside of the house top to bottom in between typing. At every turn, I've just been disgusted with the dust, dirt, and filth. My hubby's comment: "It ain't like the President's coming, honey." Sigh.

Okay, so the President's not coming. But that doesn't make my family and friends any less important. And besides, things have been let go for the summer. Most people do spring cleaning. I do it whenever I think someone will want the tour. That's the thing about Southern hospitality. Whether you have a small bungalow or a mansion, the tour is the polite thing you do when entertaining first time guests. After you greet your guests, you say to the menfolk, "Y'all make yourselves at home. Then you take the ladies and say, "Come on in. Let me show you around." Some would say it reeks of showing off. I think it's the equivalent of "my house is your house." And if you really mean that, then you must make your guests comfortable with where things are -- in case they need something. Now I'm not saying you take the insurance man or politician or Jehovah's Witness on the tour. I'm talking about friends and acquaintances that you entertain or want to cultivate a better relationship with.

And although I have given an off-the-cuff tour to an unexpected guest, it's not my favorite thing to do. At the same time, why not let them see how you really live? Warts and all. If they're really friend material, they won't care. And if they're not, then just limit your visit to the front room.

You know that show with the two British ladies who come to see your filth and help you get control of it? I was wondering what nasty things they would have to say if they came to my house. No, there's not spoiled food sitting around or animal feces. No, there's not clothes piled a mile high in the floor. (Well, there was in the laundry room earlier.) But there was a layer of white dust an inch thick on everything. There was red toothpaste leavings in all the sinks and goo in the little basket in the sink drain. ( I don't remember who posted about that, but I can identify totally. I hate cleaning it out too.) There were Apple Jacks under the couch and silly putty ground into the rug in my son's room. The laundry room smelled of wet dog, because that is where Mags spends her time when it storms. And who can remember the last time the refrigerator was cleaned out? Granted, I've had a hard summer. But that's really no excuse for CHAOS. You know, Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome. I learned that from Fly Lady. If you need help getting motivated, visit her site, and you'll get motivated.

Well, I got to finish up. They'll be here before long. And my bed is still unmade, Lisa. LOL. I bet yours is too.