Company is coming

Company’s coming.

I hear those word. Immediately my heart stops. Breathing becomes shallow. Cold sweat breaks out. Vision becomes dark and tunneled. Someone hand me a paper bag because hyperventilation is about to occur. If this were the dark ages I would claim the vapors and throw my hand to my forehead. Sheer panic has set in.

Where did I pin that article on 7-Steps to a clean house?

Immediately upon hearing the word, “company’s coming” I start thinking a zillion thoughts all at once. Our carpets—what am I going to do about those? How long to replace the wood flooring in the kitchen? Is there time to paint the bedroom? Where are they going to sleep? He’s tall and the guest bed is so short. Master bedroom bed squeaks so that is not a good swap. Grass isn’t green. Wallpaper coming off the kitchen wall under the counter. Speaking of counter-those faux counter tops are a joke. Carpet. Will it come clean? How much is new carpet? Softball games Tu/Th so can’t do any cleaning then. Friday’s out. Maid. Must call maid. I knew we should have done something with the back yard. Garage is a disaster. How are we going to fix that?

Did I mention that the company is coming Friday? Today is Monday. Monday afternoon.

Did I mention this company has no children and live in a house about twice the size of ours? When we go to their house we have our choice of bedrooms, both with their own bath. Their house is clean and stays clean.

I believe you could say, “swarm of killer bees heading your way” and I wouldn’t be as alarmed as I am right now. Zombie attack? I stand a chance of surviving that. I don’t stand a chance of getting my house in show off condition if 3 days—3 working days. I think I could moving would be an easier option then getting the current house ready.

That initiates another round of thoughts. Oh no! Couch cushions are fraying and the recliner has nicely drawn 3-year-old circle and a large apple juice stain. Stuffing is showing on the antique chair. There is no way to cover all of that! How utterly embarrassing to host DINK (dual-income-no-kids) with torn, frayed couch cushions! Lawsy, my dishes don’t match and most of my glasses have restaurant logos on the PLASTIC. I am pretty sure I don’t have enough silverware to use if everyone wants to sit down to eat. Of course that isn’t even possible with our 4-chair kitchen/craft table. Candles can’t hide the scent of dogs. Never replaced that bush in the front. Can’t even ask them to sit outside on the patio because there is no shade.

Seriously—my towels don’t match and my washcloths are pitiful. I have 2 frying pans and one of those is questionable. Our dining room is my husband’s office/dumpster. That’s fine 364 days of the year but it sure would be nice to have a nice dining room table to eat on. The banister railing is torn off the wall where my son tried to swing from the top step to the landing. Sheetrock torn, screws striped and handrail hanging kind of torn off. The kind of torn off my husband doesn’t know how to fix. The hot water is off in the guest bath because there is a slight leak. Husband just turned off the hot water instead of finding the leak. Backdoor screen is in shatters from the rabbit that ate a hole in it so she could open the screen door with her head (she was a BIG rabbit). Backyard umbrella split in two. Planters on the patio are empty. Meant to plant those this weekend. Thanks to softball practice in our swath pickets of fence are broken to that our outside silhouette looks like a gap-toothed tomboy. That awkward gap-tooth-not that 1st grade cute kind.

Company’s coming.

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