It is moderately humiliating to have two complete strangers come into your house and work their fingers to the bone for four hours, trying to correct three-plus years of your pathetic excuse for housekeeping.  Fortunately, I have a lot of experience with humiliation and thus can weather even the worst varieties in my sleep, or if you like, with one unsaved face tied behind my back.  (Don’t ask me what that means.)

Being a connoisseur of mortification, I would rate this a “high moderate” incident (as opposed to the “moderate high” incident, which is a touch more severe).  The two ladies–or should I refer to them as “the angels,” since they are, in my opinion, doing God’s work?–were very thorough and very gracious, but then, I have no idea what they were saying about me behind my back.  Which is just the way I like it.  (Talk about a disincentive to brush up on my Spanish.  Perhaps I’ll refresh my German instead.  It should come in handy when I bark orders at the rest of my family in a vain attempt to stop them from messing up my beautiful, pristine house.)

I do believe this is the first time since I set foot in this place that my whole house has been clean at the same time.  I’m not counting the closets, of course.  Ahem.  (But even they aren’t as bad as they usually are.)  I almost feel as though I can actually relax, as I was up until nearly 1 a.m. trying to declutter everything before they arrived.  All night I dreamt that I was racing around the house picking things up off the flooras they were vacuuming it.  Which is (unfortunately) fairly close to what ended up happening.  Actually, I was racing around the house picking stuff up that my children had thrown down after I’d already picked it up.  But no matter.  I think I will take a ten-minute nap before Elvis gets home from school.

Speaking of whom, if I tied him to the sofa and put a cage around him, would that make me a bad mother?