Hello, My name is Joanne. You have soiled my house. Prepare to die.

I'm at war with my house and I'm losing. Attacks are coming from all sides; armies of dust bunnies from the north, battalions of dishes lie due east, and two squadrons of dog fur are charging me from the southwest. Now I know how Napoleon felt at Waterloo. Maybe I'll too, have a dessert named after me. As long the two key ingredients are meringue and mini eggs, I'm okay with that.

I know people that have a cleaning service come out to their house every so often and clean, but I am just so not okay with that. I don't like the idea of a stranger poking around in my business. Not that I have anything to hide... but what if one day, I do? "No, no... that's not a dead body. He's just sleeping. Hey look, is that Zac Efron?"

Whack.

Now I have two somethings to hide.

Plus what if the cleaning person comes in and tries to usurp my position as wife and mother? It could totally happen. Haven't you ever seen The Hand that Rocks the Cradle? Okay, I know that was a nanny, but I think cleaning people can be just as devious. If it can happen in a movie, it can happen in real life.

Besides, I think I can win this war. Now that I've lulled the mess, clutter, dirt and grime into a false sense of security with my lack of cleaning action, I'm going to launch a sneak attack on them à la the Trojan Horse at Troy.

And my battle cry shall be, "Remember the Windex!"