Cleaning Report

Y'all know I'm having a house party for Mr B's graduation, so y'all also know that means I'm gonna be cleaning like a m'er f'er over here at blither blather headquarters.  And if y'all know me even a smidge, you KNOW I ain't playin'.  I have told the boy-barians that there'd better NOT be any boogers on the wall.  Or chalk-poop-messages written on the driveway 'bout me.  Or hidden Pepsi cans under beds...and the list goes on infinitum.

So I jump outta bed before the crock crows this morning to get a head start on hell raising cleaning since we're also having company for the weekend..  Yes, I said "company."  Have y'all ever tried to pretend to be "nice" in front of "company"  when grinding out death threats behind clenched teeth while psycho smiling???  It takes special skills, is all I'm saying.  Anyhoo...   So I'm hustling and getting kids out the door and on the bus and dogs in the door and off the bus when Mr B suddenly appears bright eyed and bushy tailed...  eyeing me.  And I carry on:  @ss up in air picking his sh*t up off the floor mumble bitching under my breath with my hair in a frazzled knot... I shouldda known.  My friends assure me that a bent over  hostile, cleaning wife has the same effect as a professional strip tease at a gentleman's club-without the dollars bills, that is.  No need to carry on down that road...  So I quickly calculate the minutes that task is gonna take and figure I'm stripping sheets anyway and there a few extra chores I need to spring on him that I have not fully disclosed...so let's just say the cost/benefit analysis was in his favor.  And now, his @ss is MINE!!!