David’s “official” 5th Birthday party is this coming Saturday. His birthday was last month, but with our vacation and the holiday we ended up having a June party. Such is life.

My house is a mess. Cluttered and un-dusted, and needing some real TLC. I decided last weekend that I would take a room each day and do a real cleaning top to bottom. Which if I weren’t working or doing 100 other things might be relatively easy to do. But I’m already disgusted with myself that I’ve fallen off the pace.

Usually husband does the floors. I hate to do the floors. Really. And he’s better at it, so I let him do it.

Problem is, S. is the all or nothing type of guy. His version of cleaning is one block of time… get in there and get it done… no matter what.

Case in point- Saturday, I asked him to replace the shower head in our bathroom shower (the old one was nasty, I bought a fancy new one from Target). He not only replaced the shower head, he continued to almost pass out from fumes scrubbing our fiberglass shower to within an inch of its life. Two hours later… “shower’s done honey!” and he had scrubbed and cleaned himself into a tizzy and subsequently comatose on the recliner. He had burned himself out.

I can’t clean that way. I need to spread out the cleaning in a methodical fashion. My crazy cleaning is reserved for special occasions, such as about an hour ago.

I went into the kitchen looking for some cheese curls. (Don’t mock me, it’s a simple pleasure)

I opened the bag and a couple fell on the hardwood floor. So, I bent down to toss them and I saw what looked like one of David’s Lego pieces. I reached for it, and realized it didn’t feel like plastic.

It wasn’t a Lego, it was a GIANT DEAD HOUSEFLY.

That sucker must have flew in the house and died trying to chow down on the nice red tomatoes on my countertop.

It was time for some evasive cleaning action.

I can’t have dead insects on my floor. No way, no how.

Problem is, now I started the kitchen, so I have to finish it.

Wish me luck.