Messy house mortification

So yesterday, friends of ours were dropping something off at our house immediately after church. Barry and I had come up with a plan on the way home from church to force them to stay and have lunch. This was a completely impromptu thing, which the practice of is a bit archaic I realize, but nonetheless, we thought it would be fun and are always up for guests in our home. Now, when we got home I remained in the kitchen the entire time, getting my kids fed, deciding what I might feed our potential guests from the barren refrigerator and looking out the window so we didn't miss them (they were possibly just going to "drop and run" since they were afraid of Barry and his reaction to another large object entering the house). So, when they came buy we cajoled, forced, bribed, and bound them with ropes to stay and have lunch. Brunch. Whatever. So anyway, I drummed up some waffles and omelets. It's true, I messed the waffles up a little bit and they were a bit chewy. And we were limited on syrup, so everyone had to "ration". So the omelets probably weren't the greatest either- Barry always makes fun of my brown eggs. But hey, we had friends over and were enjoying every minute of it. At that point, I hadn't even cared that they had to step over the 12 toys that the kids immediately got out as soon as we had gotten home from church. I can't help it that the toy room is in the middle of the house, right? So as I said, we were blissfully enjoying our guests.

Until.

Until I went upstairs to get something and saw what was spewing out of my bedroom. See, we had been away from the house literally since Friday afternoon. We spent Friday night overnight in Philly with the kids, Saturday afternoon at the Please Touch museum and then Saturday night, I went straight from the turnpike to a friends house and Barry to a guys night. I rolled in Saturday night at 11:30. I got undressed in a pitch black bedroom after tripping over the suitcase that was on the floor. My clothes lay in a heap, the suitcase lay next to it, and then Sunday morning with the rush to get to church, the zillions of pillows from the unmade bed lay on top of the suitcase...and the pile of night-before clothes. So, what was spewing out of the bedroom was a THREE FOOT HIGH pile of...well, crap. Pillows. Clothes. Suitcases. Mold. Who knows. And what can you see AS SOON AS YOU TURN TO GO TO THE BATHROOM????? That pile of crap. LOVELYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. And of course, they had all gone to the bathroom. There was no way they wouldn't have seen the creature lurking at the end of the hall.

So now, our dear friends, whom we enjoy thoroughly, think we are sloven nasty creatures and will never return. No matter how much rope we use to bind them.

Ah well. All in a day.

Ok smartie pants. YES, we had to pay them stay and have lunch with us. We are desperate for good friends. What can we say?