Friday was a red day.  From the moment my eyelids lifted I sensed it coming - and the day did not disappoint. Company was coming, the kids were all energy and I was in an irritable, discouraged, self-pitying mood.  The children each took their turns waving their red flag in true matadorian style. I am not an angry person. True rage is probably the sin I struggle with least. Not this day, though. The house needed to be cleaned. Rounding up the kids to help was like herding a bunch of feral cats. All afternoon I fought off tears; from guilt, frustration and the pain of biting my venomous tongue lest the awful words pooling there leak through my clenched teeth.  Company was coming and I wanted to take the time for more than surface cleaning. Murphey's Law: if I sweep it under the rug, or stuff it in a closet, or fail to sweep under the cushions, or throw it all in a back room,  that is where the company will go and all that I try to hide will be revealed. So the stre...