Been up since 4 a.m.

[radfringe]

spent a couple of hours drinking coffee, answering e-mail, surfing and generally waking up....

around 6 a.m. I started house cleaning.... MAJOR CLEANING...

Organized/cleaned the Den, Livingroom, Bedroom, and kitchen...

Washed walls, floors, ceilings, windows, countertops, appliances...

Dusted everything NOT moving - including one cat curled up on the coffee table (oops)......

Made the bed, cleaned the dog/cat food bowls, litter boxes, doggie kennel, started the laundry, and took out the trash....

Why did I do all of this???? because next weekend...

THE IN-LAWS ARE COMING!
THE IN-LAWS ARE COMING!

[GregW]

1. Ummm ....

Would you mind coming over and cleaning the carpet on my stairs?

I mean, it sounds like you're in the cleaning zone and I'm sure it won't take more than an hour.

Pretty please?

[1monster]

3. Or how about cleaning my son's room?

Yes, it would be a traumatic experience (but less so than it would be for me, after all this is MY son were talking about), but I'd be happy to pay you...:D

[Skittles]

2. lol

Tombo and I used to joke about it.............maybe his parents should come over more often so the house would stay cleaner. :D

[trof]

4. Sounds like my college days.

Sunday morning. My 2 roomies and I had partied hardy the night before. A hangover fog hung thick over the 3 unconscious bodies in our apartment. The phone rang at 8 a.m. One of my roomies managed to find the phone and answer it.
"Yes, mam. Just fine, thanks. Just a minute. John, it's your mom."
"Hi mom. Unh hunh. Unh hunh. Swell. Looking forward to it."

"HOLY SHIT! EVERYBODY UP! MY MOM AND DAD ARE DRIVING DOWN TO SEE US! THEY'LL BE HERE IN AN HOUR!"

We brought the garbage can in from the little back stoop and began loading in beer cans, pizza boxes, and full ashtrays. I started on the stack of dishes piled in and around the sink. Just the week before John had completed his labor of love. One entire wall, floor to ceiling, of our small living room was wallpapered with PLAYBOY CENTERFOLDS. Not time to peel off the tape and stack the lovelies in the back of a closet. They came down in one huge ball of pinky-tan-airbrushed femininitude. Into the trash. I thought John would cry.

Just as the front doorbell rang, Martin was dragging the overflowing garbage can back out onto the stoop.
whew