Please don't tell people how I live.

I'm having a Lenny afternoon. Remember the Simpsons episode where Marge becomes a Real Estate agent, and she's showing homes to, I think the Flanders. Suddenly, the facade from Lenny's house falls off, revealing him in his underwear, eating out of a can, as he pleads: "Please don't tell people how I live." Well, as I have about 72 hours until the arrival of a guest, a guest who I truly want to see, hang out with, and stay here, I am in one of those my apartment - no, no, my whole way of living - sucks! I can't believe I talked some guy into staying here for 5 days! moments. Dust covering everything, porno stacked to the ceilings, inexplicable things I've found over the years on the streets of NYC, old dinnerware piled up all around the "sleep area" where he gets his 5 square feet of space...... ugh. Get offline and get back to cleaning!