If you’ve been reading the last few days, you have noticed that I have been quite proud of myself that I got “most” of my house clean for this weekend of birthday celebrations. I think that’s one of my problems. When I clean, I expect a parade in my honor. I expect everyone to notice how great things look even though I don’t have them over when it’s in its normal state, so they really have no comparison.

My mother did notice that the house looked good. But with the in laws last night, no one noticed. A few of them have seen the house in it’s scary state, but they really don’t get why it gets that way. My mother knows what a struggle it is for me, but they just think there’s something wrong with me. Which, of course, there is.

Anyway, I was so proud of myself that I wasn’t running around crazy yesterday. The house was done and I just had to go through and do little things here and there. I had even cleaned out my fridge, somewhat, on Friday morning before my husband took out the trash.

This is one of my biggest fears, that someone will eat something out of my fridge not knowing that it is poisonous. I know that those pickles have been there for years, so I know not to eat them. I know that that yogurt is from the sale last spring, so I’m not going to eat it. But the average person who looks for a snack in my kitchen might have too much trust in me.

I don’t know why I don’t throw things away as soon as I know they’re not good.

Anyway, I had cleared out a lot of things from the fridge. But I didn’t check the side doors.

We had fish, and although I made an exhaustive list of things to get from the store, neither my husband nor I ever thought of Tartar Sauce, since we don’t eat it.

So someone asked for Tartar Sauce . . . of course. And I thought, “I just MIGHT have some. I know I got some free one time.” So I looked and found a beautiful looking jar right there in my side door. But then I thought to look at the expiration date. IT EXPIRED IN 2006! 2006??!!??

And of course by that point, everyone was waiting expectantly for their tartar sauce. My father in law, who has no use for expiration dates, ATE SOME! I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I immediately threw it in the trash so no one else would eat it. I laughed on the outside, but inside I wanted to cry.

I want to have this clutter/messiness/chaos thing under control. This is going to be a long process.

For today, the center of my home is clean. But the edges are full of clutter. I don’t want to just push things to the edges, I want it gone.