The house is a wreck, each room a perfect tableau of disorganization. The kitchen could use a major sweep, maybe even two passes of a mop, laundry baskets brim with folded laundry, so can't quite do new laundry.
Each tabletop is littered with papers, books, plastic bags with receipts yet to be determined. The luggage from last week's rained-out Vermont ski trip stands resolutely at the top of the stairs, awaiting my husband's fallen scream in the middle of the night.
Still, the house isn't dirty (credit goes to cleaning lady). So really, no big deal, she'll be here soon enough to tidy up my life. And meanwhile who will see it?