I rarely have company over and when I do, it's a guaranteed anxiety/panic attack. I clean the bathrooms, kitchen, carpets, closets and other places I'm sure my guests won't see - just in case. My voracious appetite to clean, clean and even more clean continues on as my first guests breech the threshold of my home.

Why is it I feel the need to make my house so sanitary that the hospital could probably easily place the Bubble Boy in my midst without nary a fear? Are my guests really going to care if my pantry is organized by color and if my sheets all have military corners? Who knows, but I do love me the smell of some Pine Sol. It was a love created when I was pregnant with Gunny. I would crave the smell of chemically created pines in my house - so much so that my floor was bathed with it on a weekly (if not more) basis.

I consider myself an decent housekeeper, as I really cannot stand clutter. If it's been sitting on my counter for more than a couple of days, it's either going in the trash or to a new home (something I learned from my mother - thanks Mom). I practice what I preach, unfortunately, the rest of the hoodlums around here don't. Hubby is the proverbial "piler" (little heaps of his crap all over the house - keys, pens, assorted work gadgets and shiny things he's collecting) and his children are taking after him. I get so torked when I'm picking things up and putting them away for the fifty millionth time but I know if I don't, no one will and eventually you'll see our house on an Oprah pack rat special. I'm just not ready for that.

As I sit here, four hours away from my little shindig, I'm contemplating re-vacuuming my floor. It's not really dirty but I don't care for the pattern I left on the last vacuuming session. I guess I really should talk to someone about these OCD issues or maybe just not have company over. EVER.