>The Dirty Truth

>”Great, man, thanks!” Hubs said on the phone. “We’ll see you soon.” He hung up and smiled at me triumphantly.

“Tom’s coming over to fix the light switch,” he said. “He thinks he knows how to do it. Boy, this is gonna save us a ton of money. Electricians charge extra to come out on Saturdays.”

I looked at Hubs, panicked. “And when did Tom say he’ll be here?”

“Around one,” Hubs answered casually. Then his smile faded. “I’d better clean up the tub,” he said. “Our bathroom’s a mess.”

I was already out the door and running up the steps. We had T-minus one hour and fifteen minutes to make our bedroom and bathroom presentable. “You watch the kids!” I shouted at Hubs as I ran. “I’ll clean up!”

I got to our bedroom and stopped short. It looked like a disaster area. I had spent the week taking down Christmas decorations and the entire bedroom was filled with boxes that needed to be carried up to the attic, not to mention clothes the kids had outgrown that hadn’t yet been stored for consignment, random decorations from Halloween and Thanksgiving that needed to go in their boxes, fresh laundry that still needed to be sorted and put away, Hubs’s clothes thrown here, there, and everywhere, and various treasures and toys that Bruiser had brought in to play with while I got ready each day.

The bathroom was even worse. Frankly, no one ever sees it but our family, so it’s my last priority when it comes to cleaning the house. (Can I get an amen?) The toilet didn’t look bad, but our vanity definitely needed a scrub down. The mirror was filled with spots. The white floor was no longer very white. And the tub? Heh. My husband is the only one who uses the tub and therefore had agreed to be responsible for cleaning it. And you know what that means.

It hadn’t been cleaned in a long, lonnnnnng time.

I had an hour and fifteen minutes to make sense of the wreckage. At that moment, raising the Titanic and making it seaworthy again seemed easier.

But there was no time to cry about it. I immediately got to work carrying boxes up to the attic. I made our bed. I put Bruiser’s toys back in his room. I delivered the laundry to all appropriate parties. I vacuumed our bedroom, the hallway, and the bathroom floor. I scrubbed our vanity until it sparkled. I Windexed the mirrors. I scoured the tub. I sponged off the fingerprint smudges on the doors. I dusted the lampshades. I mopped the bathroom. I emptied the trashcans.

And all the while, I cursed my husband and I cursed Tom and I cursed Tom’s own immaculate house and I especially cursed light switches and electricians who charge more on Saturdays.

One hour and fifteen minutes later, I was sweaty and exhausted. I brushed a damp lock of hair out of my face and looked around. Miraculously, it was clean. At least, clean enough.

The doorbell rang. I ran to the mirror, dabbed the sweat off my face and put my hair into a smooth ponytail.

“Tom!” I said, coming down the stairs as my husband let him inside. “Thanks so much for coming over!”

“No problem,” Tom said. “Happy to help.”

“We’ve just been having a lazy Saturday,” I laughed easily. “Nothing to do, just lying around, doing nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Hubs snorted and I shot him a warning look. “Certainly not cleaning!” I said a little too loudly.

Suddenly, the kids came running around the corner. When I’d left them with Hubs an hour earlier, they were tidy enough. But while I’d been working, something had happened.

Hubs had happened.

Bruiser’s face was covered in sticky goo and something green was matted in his hair. His shirt was stained with five or six different colors. Punky had chocolate smeared on her face and arms. Her dress was also streaked with chocolate where she’d tried to wipe off her hands. She smiled and revealed a mouthful of brown teeth. Tom looked down and the conversation came to a halt.

“I… uh…” I stammered. Images of Tom’s own children, always freshly bathed and combed, popped into my head. “Anyway,” I said shortly and herded the kids into the kitchen and out of Tom’s sight.

“That Lindsay,” I imagined Tom telling his wife when he got home. “You can tell she’s a total neat freak when it comes to her house,but those poor kids don’t get one second of her time. You should have seen them! They looked like cave people!”

I just. Can’t. Win.

On my style blog today: The newest Hot Trend You Already Have in Your Closet, Spice Up Your Black and White with These Fabulous and Affordable Red Pieces and What I Wore This Week.