Oh my god, I'm having company tomorrow

There is a time in every slob's life when she is struck with an acute pang of realization that, in less than 24 hours, there will be actual people — family members, no less — coming into her apartment and making themselves at home for many, many hours. Such a realization floods the brain with recognition of previously untapped talents, such as eagle-eye vision ("Holy crap, that is a huge dust bunny dancing under my bed") and hyper-sensitive olfactory glands ("The kitchen certainly does smell assy this morning").

So, as soon as I complete my computer-assisted search for the "Easy" button (nope, nothing here), I guess I'd better get to work making this place I live in a little more inhabitable for humans who might not have the proper immunities built up.