the night before

I could make up some super cute little poem that is a total rip off of "The Night Before Christmas." But I won't, cause it's so, so overdone.


So.
It's the night before the Big Party, and:
the walls are washed
the trim is scrubbed
the cupboards are bleached
the windows (including front door) are shining
the grass is mowed
the yard toys put away
the girls' toys in the house all cleaned up and put away
the toys from under the couch put away
the toys from under the computer put away
the toys from under the arm chair put away
the books -- all the books -- put away
(even if that does just mean stacked up somewhere, hidden out of sight)
the party decorations, pop, chips, punch, tables, chairs, table cloths, dishes, serving platters, etc. are good to go for tomorrow
the counter is cleared off
the laundry is mostly done
the bathroom is clean,
I cleaned the tub. again.

I am sweaty.
My arms hurt.
I even cleaned the kitchen ceiling.

I told Paul today once I start cleaning I have a hard time stopping. That's because every little bit of dirt is attached to another bit of dirt and it's hard to decide when you're done when your whole house can be cleaned.

I will take a bath, and then clean my scrap area.
I had not set the scrap area as High Priority, I kinda thought I could just sorta straighten the piles. And then I had a vision. It was a horrible vision, people.. with greasy chippie-fingers. Touching. My. Stuff. Leaving greasy chippie-fingerprints over my layouts. And my paper. And it was all Not Good. So I'm going to pack every last little bit of it away. Because last time these people came over and left greasy chippie-fingerprints on the backs of my layouts that I foolishly had not put in page protectors because I don't have page protectors that fit my 12*12 pages.. I felt really upset as I just sat, transfixed in horror, watching those large chippie-fingers touching my layouts.

I blame my mother, she instilled me with a hatred for greasy fingerprints.


A.