Sometimes I Just Hate Myself

I've never been what you'd call a neat person, but lately....well, lately let's just say I'd have to tidy up if Maw and Paw Kettle were coming to visit.

How many of you still have Christmas doo-dads up and/or out? I see a few hands. Well, I can beat that. I am just now bagging up my freestanding witch and three ceramic punkins that have been living in the entryway since mid-October.

I've got candle-making crap all over the house from my Christmas gift-giving rush. And packaging material from the 50 pounds of candy I made and gave away this year. A roaster lives on the loveseat. I have two or three boxes of trash cleaned out of the car - but perhaps too important to throw away. Those are in the middle of the living room floor. No less than a dozen pairs of shoes litter the floors and stairways. The contents of several suitcases leftover from trips long forgotten were dumped on the sofa so the suitcases could be repacked (and redumped later) as needed. Folded laundry is stacked on every step of every set of stairs. Hey! At least I fold it! There are probably enough toast crumbs all over the kitchen counter to make a pie crust. And these are just the highlights. In short...I am a slob.

The bad news is, I have a houseguest coming tomorrow. This person is a frequent visitor who settles in and makes herself at home. So, cabinet and closet doors get opened. There's no place to hide.

Why the hell do I do this? Because I CAN? I've known about this visitor for several weeks now. Why do I wait until less than 24 hours prior to her ETA to do something about this pigsty? I think it's the adrenaline rush.

I need a mother.

No...that didn't work the FIRST time around. Maybe a housekeeper.

She'd probably give up in disgust.

I'm hopeless.