My Boss is Coming Over

I've been buried deep in the crevasses of my house, cleaning, scrubbing, dusting, laundering, arranging, and repeating all week.  Also in 1200 square feet I'm not even sure we have crevasses, but if there are, I have found them.  All of them.

My boss, and my bosses boss are attending a bridal shower I am hosting at my house this weekend, and if I've never been intimidated in my lifetime, I am now.  Our house has been a work in progress for almost two years (yup, we lived through a remodel that was fun) , and while we're alm o s t done, we're not qui t e there yet.  But this year we've come a long way, and there are many sections of my home that I love, parts I have worked hard on, and things that make me happy.

Both taken with my phone from my couch, because I'm lazy.

But since my home is a place where I find comfort, and escape to after a long days work, it's hard to let people in with the idea that they are going to find the same satisfaction with it as we (my boyfriend and I) do.   Which in the end might be perfectly fine, despite the fact that that's exactly what I want.  But I'm a girl, and I want them to be impressed, and think it's beautiful, because wouldn't anyone want that for their home?

To be honest, I'm mostly nervous a pillow won't be fluffed enough, the food won't be scrumptious enough (yes I am feeding them all too), and the floors won't be clean enough.  But seriously what I was thinking sweeping and mopping, Cinderella style on my hands and knees, on Tuesday, when little Miss Zoey can single handily make any floor dirty hairy in 37 seconds flat? Fail.  God I want need a Roomba. 

Mostly I just want it to all go well. I can't wait to have all my crafts done, food prepped, drinks made, and guests here. I'll be sure to have a candle burning, all lights on, and fresh towels, new soap, and flowers in the bathroom.  My silverware will be wrapped and bowed in linen napkins, and my serving trays will be matching.  The wine will be chilled, and mimosas will be ready for an awesome party.  

This party has to make up for the the terrible bachelorette party the bride had, and I'm determined to do it.  So excuse me while I go fold the three loads of laundry that are currently heaped and barley fitting on my kitchen island, and scrub that back toilet, and clean up the back room in hopes that when my boss(es) come over Saturday morning, they'll be pleasantly surprised with what we've worked so hard to put together.

Fingers crossed.