The last minute...

is the best minute. At least that's what I like to tell myself so I don't get all stressed out and start crying. Oh wait. I still do, but only in front of trusted colleagues and my DH. I always tell myself as I'm furiously _______ (fill in the blank with any chore including but not limited to assessing students and filling out grade cards) that next time I will make sure and start much earlier. But, I never do. Never. I even tried to make it a resolution. But, it was to no avail.

So, tonight I am cleaning my house in preparation for family coming tomorrow night for Passover on Monday night. If only I kept my house sparkling clean I would not be sweating right now from running the dryer (trying once again to conquer Mount Purex), turning my oven on to self-clean (a 5000 degree chore), and moving every piece of furniture I have to get all the hidden dirt that I tend to ignore when no one is here but us. They will be here in less than 24 hours, and this week was Third quarter conference/Cub scout pink eye/Camper springs a leak in the window/Run a fever/DH gets called out week. So the house, prior to my four hour (so far) merry maids marathon looked like something that almost could be seen on the show, "Hoarders." Almost. Without the National Geographics from 1972.

What I am I doing writing about cleaning instead of actually doing it? Well, mother, it is not 4pm tomorrow. And, crying makes my eyes look a lot bluer.