I'm a bit of a perfectionist when we have company. I want my house to look nice, I want to offer a variety of things to eat, I think the front porch should say, "Welcome!" I want to leave a treat, a couple of current magazines and a good novel in the guest room.
We're having visitors this weekend, so the week before is the week to get 'er done – the cleaning, tidying, cooking. Why is it (I'll speak for myself here, but I bet I'm not alone) I put up with dust and clutter on a day-to-day basis, and only dig in when someone comes to call?
I'm worth a shiny coffee table and freshly baked scones. Or at least I should be.
The reason I put up with it, of course, is that I'm the one makes it happen, with a little help from that guy who lives here, too. Heh. Yesterday my husband and I cleaned gutters and then swept and hosed off the back patio (which is not a small job, the patio stretches from one end of our one-story ranch-type house to the other). We moved all the furniture into the yard and did a thorough job of it, something we do once or twice a year anyway. I'll do the front porch (much smaller) today.
I mowed yesterday, too, which took a good three hours. We took the fence down around the garden and I weed-whacked around the garage and the front perennial bed.
Today I start all over again. My plan yesterday was shot to hell when my husband decided we needed to do some outdoor stuff. I'd hoped to get the guest-wing side of the house swept, dusted and mopped. There are clean linens on the bed and the bathroom is presentable, but I definitely strayed from the plan.
He has a meeting today. Which means if I'm off plan today, it's my own damned fault.
Not that I'm blaming anyone else. Heh.