My house is a flippin’ mess and I have visitors coming in 27 hours. I just got back form Tokyo and I had told my husband “oh, don’t worry about cleaning – I’ll clean it all when I get home.” Little did I know that male ears interpret this as: “You have carte blanche to turn our home into a frat house for 5 days – the dirtier, the more manly you are.”
I came home Monday morning to a margarita bar – salt and limes and stickiness – on what used to be the coffee table. And I think the cat was drunk.
Maybe if I close my eyes, I can manifest myself one of these rooms.