Welcome To Chaos

I should have that as a sign on my front door. 

I have some tendencies that teeter on the edge of a full blown anxiety disorder.  I suffer from my own version of Chaos - Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome. 

Well, before you go all "she's a crazy loon" on me, let me explain.  It's not that I can't have anyone over, but I can't have anyone over if my house isn't super clean.  And by anyone, I mean, Anyone.  Not even the amazing Ms. T, who I know would not judge me.

If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, you may have read that last Saturday my house was spotless.  The laundry was caught up, the closets were purged, and I had even managed to unpack the last 3 boxes that had been lingering since our move back in July.  Everything was scrubbed and sanitized.  There wasn't a speck of dust left to be found.

I would have let complete strangers in my house without having to hide in the bathroom to get through the struggle to breathe.

That was just a mere week ago.  Today, no one is allowed in my house again.  I think I would have a heart attack if someone even tried to knock on my door.  This may be intensified by hormones.  They do tend to bring out the crazy in me. 

In all honesty, it isn't really that bad.  And I think that knowing that everything was ferociously  attacked just 8 days ago really helps.  However, the clutter is striving to take over again already.  

I even stepped on a Lego.  If you have never had the intense pain  pleasure from stepping on a Lego, you haven't lived.  You start to see new and interesting colors, and have the ability to speak a language that hasn't even been invented yet.  This bit of knowledge about the magical abilities of stray Legos was completely free.

All of that was basically just to say that I will be skipping the Sunday nap in an effort to declutter my house.  And once I am done, you can visit me.  Maybe. 

PS - I must add a funny little story from last night.  The hubs called The Little Miss to come to the kitchen to help him with a project.  She yelled from the other end of the house, "I'm in the bathroom.  I'm going poopie, but I still love you!"  Ok, so after house cleaning, I may need to start teaching her how much information about our bathroom trips is appropriate to share.