I think it hit early

The compulsive need to clean the house for a new baby, I mean. Nesting, isn't it called? I have been a whirlwind of cleaning rags and mops today (picture it if you will, a cyclone with various cleaning tools whipping out every now and then, cruising around furniture, scaring cats, making everything sparkle in its aftermath). Ha.

I don't mean normal weekly cleaning. I mean, wiping down the windows, blinds, vacuuming the upholstery, scrubbing the dials of ovens and knobs of cabinets. Cleaning out junk drawers. Cleaning out the car. Oh, my. (See my post on my other blog about how all of what I did yesterday totally wiped me out. I hope that doesn't happen today, too.)

Gardner's wondering what's gotten into Mama. He's glad for a clean house, I'm sure, but he's just wide-eyed with wonder as I dart to and fro. I think I'm done now. The only thing left is mopping.

Maybe it's for the baby...maternal instinct. Maybe it's a subconscious plan to get this house totally exquisite before we put the "For Sale" sign in our yard in a couple of weeks. I don't know. I am just glad that I can laugh at myself when I get like this. Ken's good at it, too. He knows.

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