I gave in yesterday.
I called our Cleaning Company.
I was standing in the dining room, looking at the dusty, untidy, dirty house and thinking about our guests from the UK arriving on Monday, thinking about a whole weekend planning cleaning, arguing with Fluffy Bear about cleaning, and actually doing cleaning, and I suddenly found the phone in my hand.
Then I was leaving a voicemail asking for a one time clean. I heard myself begging, pleading, and saying something about being saved from having to kill my husband.
Pammy, the lovely lady who runs the company, called me back and, after checking the Fluffy Bear was still breathing, promised to get me our usual cleaner, Mrs Amazing, this Saturday morning.
Thank God I have a 9:30am meeting this Saturday, otherwise I am sure I would completely humiliate myself by standing at the front door, open-armed and sobbing as she arrives.