Let's flashback to Tuesday of last week. I had been to the grocery and spent a bazillion dollars getting all ready for our guests. It was hot and oh so humid. I think the dew point was 194 1/2 % or so, or maybe it was just me. Came home from said grocery and put away a bazillion dollars worth of groceries. At this point I wanted to lie down and have a nap but I, being the brilliant masochist that I am, thought, gee, why don't I go out into the heat/humidity and clean my van! It will be used for chauffeuring our guests around town and it needed a good brush up. So I spend a good hour on it and quit just before I completely dissolved into a puddle of goo. I come in all sweaty and dirty and vile and decide that I will throw the first of the laundry in the washer, have a glass of iced tea and sit down for a bit. After all, I have over 24 hours until my guests arrive. Right? Plenty of time to clean and fluff and bake and cook a few things to put away. RIGHT? I pour the tea, not into the glass but straight onto the floor. Now I need the mop. I am standing there with sweat still running down my face. Oh and there is also that annoying trickle that streams steadily down my spine. You know the one right? Get the picture? No make up, dirty sweats with the torn pocket, barefoot and my hair is plastered to my forehead. Pretty huh? The dirty clothes are in piles all over the kitchen floor, the couch has been stripped of it's cushions and pillows so I can get in there and vacuum up every strand of pet hair. All the beds have been stripped of their sheets, the towels removed from the bathroom for washing and the cleaning accouterments out and at the ready. Now, back to that iced tea puddle slowly spreading in front of my refrigerator. I retrieve the mop and begin. "Kipper! Stop barking! I already have a huge headache. I do not need that!" Kipper does not listen, he is much too busy barking at the people getting out of the car in front of the house. This I do not see...I am blissfully unaware of the impending doom. For a full 1 1/2 minutes more I assume that Kipper is madly barking at a neighbor out for a walk. Sadly, no. The door bell rings. And where is my husband you ask? Working late, which he rarely does, so he can get ahead before our company arrives. After all, we still have over 24 hours. Dan? At a conference in Cincinnati for the day. Grace? Splashing about in our neighbor's lawn sprinkler. We have over 24 hours to go...no worries. The door bell rings again. I head to the door with mop in hand, determining that I need not open the door for anyone but the closest of family or friends due to the condition of the house and my personal appearance. I peek. I see a family of German citizens who my husband has told me were arriving on Wednesday night. This is Tuesday afternoon. I panic. I think I may have blacked out for several seconds. I cuss out my husband. I actually consider NOT opening the door and hiding in that cool, dark near by coat closet. I ask God why! I have been a good girl right? The door bell rings again. That closet looks awfully inviting. I open the door. The next hour is a blur. A sweaty, embarrassing, I do not speak German blur. I do, however, remember calling my husband 5 or 498 times on his office and cell phones. No answer. For 3 1/2 hours no answer. Argh. Only another woman can truly appreciate how awful this was. I survived. The guests survived. Bill? The verdict is still out on that.