Greeting from the Fancy Sofa, where I’m sitting in my work uniform (First Class Fancy Airline Sweatshirt and old jeans), occasionally staring out my window (which still doesn’t have blinds of any kind—oh hello neighbours!), and trying to get some work done. The Minis are at playgroup. Or music. Or swimming. Anyway, they’re somewhere cool. And I’m trying to be productive.
Even as my cleaning lady fluffs the pillows around me.
She’s a new one and I admire the way she’s fit right in, getting things done despite my presence. It’s always tricky, hiring someone to scrub your floors. She’s got to be trustworthy, industrious and know the difference between Cif Bathroom Cleaner and Cif Kitchen Cleaner. (One comes in a yellow bottle and one is white. Fancy here did not actually know this until recently when one of the Nannies asked why I use bathroom cleaner on my kitchen counters. Anyhoo.)
Yes, Fancy has a long list of requirements if you want to come scrub my toilets. However, this time we really lucked out. Because on this search for a new Hoover Master, I had one basic criteria: ALIVE.
Yes. That was pretty much my whole list.
I was desperate, you see. Remember back to the whole “No Nanny, 4 senior citizens Holiday Adventure?” Well, I only mentioned there was no housekeeper. I didn’t tell you the whole story. As in for the first week, we had the whole bunch of them at the Fancy Home. Where I was expected to cook and clean and entertain the masses.
Without a Nanny, which was bad enough. But wait, it was actually worse than you could imagine.
My cleaning lady was in the hospital in critical care.
Which was terrible, I mean terrible, on so very many levels. For her. For her family. For her children at Christmas time.
And for me.
Oh woe was me. I became intimately acquainted with the Cif bottles. Only I wasn’t sure where the mop was, which is why I went through the house everyday on my hands and knees pushing Flash Wipes around my hardwoods. (Is that okay? Did I do that right?)
Anyhoo, I then had to do what any Fancy lady would do in this circumstance. I had to fire my cleaning lady. Oh, don’t look at me like that. First I had Fancy PA send enough food to fill their fridge for the holidays. Then I fired her.
I mean, seriously, what was I supposed to do? Give her a bucket big enough for an oxygen tank and window cleaner?
So that brings us to our new Fancy Cleaner. I really like her. So far she’s doing a great job. The kitchen is sparkling, she irons like a mad woman. Oh, and her kidneys seem to function just fine.
I’m not asking too much, am I?