Martin and I recently agreed to have our house on a home tour called "Hidden Downtown" coming up in May. It was about three seconds after telling the woman in charge that we'd do it, that I realized what a dumb decision that was. Hello! I live here! I, more than anyone, know how dirty it is! So today during naptime when I found myself taking down and cleaning all of the vases and dusting the top of the refrigerator (for the first time since we've lived here), then dusting the walls, all the rest of the kitchen shelves, the area where we keep our cookbooks (including the inside of a basket) and even dusting the magnets on the refrigerator (all after I'd made a batch of brownies!) I wasn't so inclined to think I was victim of the "nesting" instinct, so much as the instinct that said, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING AGREEING TO OPEN YOUR HOUSE TO A BUNCH OF STRANGERS?!?!?!?!?!"
The sad thing is, I kind of lie when I say that Martin and I agreed to this. He actually didn't want to, but I agreed to do it the other day when he wasn't home. And then I forgot to tell him until today. So when I texted him all of my cleaning feats, he responded with, "Wow. Maybe you will go early." And then I remembered to tell him about the tour... heh... heh... He hasn't responded to that particular text yet.