Tales of A Dirty House

I don't, in general, consider myself a bad housekeeper. That being said, NEVER pop up on me unannounced. Give me at least 15 minutes warning so I can be prepared. I have a 15 minute cleaning routine specifically for popper-uppers. First I run into the kitchen, and shove all my dirty dishes in the oven. I then dash around the house gathering up all the dirty laundry. For some reason, my family does not understand the fact that we have a little room in the house that has a washer and a dryer and is used for no other purpose than doing laundry, if so, then surely they would bring their dirty clothes there themselves. After removing the offense laundry and clothes, I then open the closet in the living room and shove all of the toys in it. Spray some pine sol in the air, and viola, a clean house ready for company.
It's a completely different story when I have advance warning of company coming. Take for instance, Olivia's birthday party. I threw together an impromptu get together because for the 3rd year in a row her birthday crept up on me. I'm not a bad parent, she was just born too close to Christmas. I will always procrastinate doing my housework until the day before any get together using the excuse that the kids would just mess it right back up, so why bother.
I start out in the kitchen, because I am very funny about my kitchen being clean. I will make sure all the dishes are washed and put away. Then I will wipe down everything and then sweep. But I'll notice there is a sticky spot, so I have to mop. Then I will think to myself, what if someone wants a drink and opens my fridge? Will they be scared of the fuzzy things in the bottom? I believe they used to be grapes, but I can't swear to it. Thus I am now cleaning out the refridgerator.
After spending 4 hours on the kitchen, I'm exhausted, but I plow on furiously scrubbing my house. I will grab my trusty bottle of cleaner and a rag and start scrubbing the walls, thinking to myself, what do they do when I'm not looking. Are they making mudpies and then practicing their high five skills on the wall? I always end up frustrated, wondering if I'm raising a filthy pack of animals who have no regard about what people think of their home.
It always ends the same way. The day of the party arrives, I'm cranky and tired, the kids are mad because I have spent the whole day fussing at them. And what happens? Noone wanted a damn drink anway, go figure.