I am a sick, sick, person.

This country has changed me. I'm not sure if it's for the better.

I can no longer ignore little dust particles on the coffee table. I have to clean up that miniscule spot on the floor RIGHT NOW. I am no longer allowed to have a junk drawer because THEY MIGHT FIND OUT. Even when we're on vacation, I organize the entire room before we leave. Housekeeping might spread it around that I'm slovenly!

I recently upped my cleaning ladies (my-favorite-ever Ironia moved and one of my best friends, Renata, and her mom, Cida, now clean for me) to once a week. I decided this would eliminate stress and give me more time to being a SAHM that's never home. But dude, people, I can't let them clean a dirty house. The horror!

Monday night I go into panic mode and pick up the whole house from top to bottom. I put away all the things on top of the fridge that have accumlated throughout the week. I pick up the pile of I-don't-look-good-in-that-today-and-I'll-put-it-away-some-other-time-clothes and hide them in the closet. (Soon I won't have anything hanging UP in the closet and I'll eventually have to go through the mountain ... later.) I wipe down the refrigerator shelves JUST IN CASE they peek in there. I even empty the over-flowing diaper pail, because, really, what would they THINK if they knew I waited this long?

Nothing motivates me like a maid.

Maybe part of the problem is that they are too much my friends. I happen to know for a fact that Renata scrubs her stove with steel wool after EVERY MEAL until she can see her face in it. Dona Cida washes out her trash cans EVERY DAY and routinely wipes clean her window sill tracks. I mean, c'mon, what am I supposed to do with that?! Just look at the way they wash floors!

Fix me.