The countdown is on! My house will be invaded tomorrow and I'm not nearly ready. I'm at the cusp of either throwing my hands in the air and proclaiming "It is, what it is. Deal with it, baby!" or having a full blown panic attack. Could go either way.
To make matters worse I had a little accident and lobbed off a good chunk of my finger. I'll be fine... but it's slowing things down.
On a brighter note, this happened...
I went through all my linens, washed like stain removal boss, and now have a pristine collection that I'm thinking I should probably never, ever touch because it'll never be this pretty again.
Throughout all this cleaning madness I've realized something; I DO like having clean and orderly things... but I NEED my mess too. My jumbled shelves of stuff calms. The clean spaces make me an uptight crank (ask my kid, he'll totally agree.)