How Can I Bless this House with Bodies Everywhere??

Okay, here's my dilemma today. Both sons had friends over this weekend. Four boys between the ages of 11 and 17 . . . you know what that does to a house. I stayed on top of things and had them throw away their trash and put their dirty glasses and dishes in the dishwasher. But here's what I found this morning.

1. The upper level -- two bodies in the younger son's room. I'm sure there's a popcorn bowl in there somewhere along with glasses -- you have to have snacks when watching a movie, right? I didn't want to wake them just yet, so I took the sheets off of my bed to go into the washer. I can start my "home blessing hour" downstairs and work my way up.

2. The middle level -- two MORE bodies, one on each couch in the living room. Popcorn bowls and glasses on the kitchen counter. Didn't want to wake them either, so we'll have to get the middle level a little later. So with sheets in hand I headed to . . . .

3. The basement -- guitars and amps all over the floor, a blanket on the couch, cords for the game systems in the floor. AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

Can't clean there either because I refuse to pick up after them. So what can I do? Throw the sheets in the washer (they're ready to go into the dryer now), check email and pout. Drink another cup of coffee and plot. Get my fanny upstairs and take a shower (even though I'll have to take another one after the cleaning is finished -- so why bother now??).

I've given them ample time to get their beauty rest, so now it's time to make my way back up the stairs and start making some noise.

By the way, when my kids have sleepovers, we're not talking about one nighters. Our house is the roach motel for kids -- kids come in but they don't come out. We keep them for 3 or 4 days or more at a time. We don't mind it at all; in fact I love it because I know where my kids are and what they're doing. But unconscious bodies at 9:30 Monday morning . . . nope, time to breathe some life into them and get them out of my way.

The FLY in Flylady means "finally loving yourself." If those little moochers don't get out of my way and let me bless this house, it's going to mean "fat lady yelling." HA!

Okay, time to get down to business. I hear movement upstairs. Time to lace up the shoes and whip this house back into shape. Later!