When we have guests, my wife thinks they're coming with white gloves on.

We had some friends coming out to our lake house last weekend. Nothing fancy, just burgers and a few beers by the water. 

But my wife was running around that morning like the health inspector, the Queen of England, and her mother-in-law were all showing up at once.

"This House Is In Shambles"

That's what she told me. Shambles.

I started looking at the house, and I said to myself, “Self,  are you losing your mind?"

Here's a picture of what our living room looks like in “shambles.”

I decided she needed a little more perspective, so I got to work.

I picked up the lamp on the side table. It was off-center by about half an inch. 

I said, "Honey, we cannot let Steve and Karen see this. They'll think we're savages."

Then I found a throw pillow that wasn't quite squared up on the couch. I gasped. Actual gasp. 

I said, "If they see this pillow, we may never get invited to their house again."

Then I found the real crime scene. The true atrocity. 

The blankets in the dog's pen weren't folded. I told her I couldn't believe I have to live like this. 

She did not find any of this as funny as I did. 

Not even a little.

I don't get it. Our house is clean. It's always clean. 

Nobody's coming over to swipe their finger across our baseboards or crawl under the sink with a flashlight. 

They're coming over for burgers, man.

Does anybody else's spouse turn into a drill sergeant before company shows up? Why do we do this to ourselves?

Enjoy your Sunday!

"If I wanted to I could've"

The best chapter together might still be ahead.

To be fair, she started it.

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