I’m working myself into fits and I need to stop. I feel like I’m spinning in circles, rushing from one room of my house to another tidying this, straightening that, dusting this bit off, putting this thing away at last, only to to see a thousand more of these items to do. It’s productive, to a degree, but it’s making my anxiety level climb, so here I sit. Breathing. Good.

Why all this nervous rushing about? Because after living in this house for four years my friend is finally coming over to see it. My friend, whose beautiful new(ish) home I saw for the first time a couple of weeks ago. My friend, whose home is perfect.

I know, I know…

I’m NOT comparing my home to hers. They are different. We are different people at different stages. I have a dog (yep, blame it on the dog… she won’t mind), my friend doesn’t. I have a college kid here for the summer, she doesn’t. I have a blended household, she doesn’t. I work full-time (except in the summer, but shh), she doesn’t. Still, her house is CLEAN, and mine? Well, it isn’t.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to post this (yep, warts and all) then drag out the vacuum cleaner, see if I can find some Windex, and call it done. Oh wait, I’m supposed to meet her in half an hour and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Yeah, maybe the other stuff just won’t happen. She’ll love me anyway, won’t she? I hope so. And exhale…