T comes home tomorrow afternoon.

I have to work until about 7 tonight and then I'm supposed to go to the opening of a play. And tomorrow I have to be at the gym at 9:30 and then work from 12 until about 2.

There's not a clean dish in my kitchen, or an empty counter space to be seen. There is laundry everywhere, and about 40 pairs of shoes on the floor between the front door and the bed room. The dining room table can't be seen for all the crap piled on it, same with the coffee table. And the bed looks more like a nest than anything else. I won't even discuss the upstairs bathroom.

So.

I think I'll be skipping the opening of the play tonight and doing a little house cleaning.

I don't want to give the poor man a heart attack when he opens the front door tomorrow.

Why oh why wasn't I born with that good house keeping gene? Or the money to employ a maid?