Tuesday, May 12

A big red bow on top

There is nothing more satisfying than walking into my freshly cleaned house, inhaling the unmistakable fresh scent of lemons, pine, and Murphy's soap. What does that smell like? A church pew comes to mind.

You may recall my indecisive pride interfering with the common sense solution of hiring a cleaning lady while I was in school. This probably isn't the first time I'm reveling in the luxury, either. My great fortune of getting someone else to clean my house was like winning the lottery. For real. A friend of mine who also came to her senses said, "If I could win a million dollars or keep my cleaning crew? I'd keep my cleaning crew."

I couldn't agree more. I was even having my cleaning gal come once a week until Jon and I created our budget and, well, realized that was just plain ridiculous. After reevaluating, we opted for every other week. Which was going ok until The Day I Got the Call.

I left for work that day looking forward to returning home to a clean house. Have I ever told you how impatient I become around day 8 between cleanings? Remember, I was the spoiled brat who had someone coming every week for several weeks. An entire TWO WEEKS had gone by. Instead, I got home to a not cleaned house and a message on my answering machine from the woman I verbally praised, to her face, every time I saw her, while thanking her by throwing rose petals on the floor and bowing before her as she entered the house. Like that scene from Coming to America.

Her message did not sound like the woman I had gotten to know a little bit more each week. She very flatly explained into my voice mail that she would not be cleaning my house anymore because she was busy at her other job and her husband got a raise. Good bye.

This being the woman who I compassionately empathized with each time she called to cancel because one of her family members suddenly died. Again. Or her husband or daughter was hopitalized. Again. Or she herself had another debilitating illness keeping her home for days, making certain I can see the virus over the phone. As if Mononucleosis himself has rendered my cleaning pal hostage to his evil ways. Again.

Now I have another gal who came highly recommended by a totally separate pool of reliable cleaning women. I feel the need to gratefully praise her too because truly, anyone coming to clean my house? Even though I pay her? Is giving me the world's greatest gift.