Today I'm afflicted with the above. I can't do anything because of everything that needs to be done. Usually on days like this, I just get a big garbage bag and go through the house filling it up; then all I have to do is put it in the trash cart. But that never helps much, because it just exposes parts of the next layer.
I would seriously consider getting "maid service" again; but it was my observation that the service is mainly to vacuum the middle of the floor and flick a little dust rag around the tops of the furniture. And pick up their hundred-dollar check.
I know you're supposed to follow them around with a whip, but I've never been a good slave-driver. I'm too polite to protect myself except explosively. I always remember the time I lost my temper at Mrs. Harshaw for putting the carving-knives blade-tip-up in the dishwasher and bending up and down over it while looking at me and talking. Things like that haunt the troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Heavy, Heavy, Hangs Over Your Head
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3 comments:
Did we have a dishwasher back then?? For some reason, I don't remember having a dishwasher.
But I know what you mean about being a slave driver. I hate that kind of stuff myself. But I'm trying hard to change my ways.
That's the same trouble I have with the couple who clean my house. I'm basically paying them $90 every two weeks to push the dirt from one place to another (or as Mama would say, "to mox and gom"). And like you, I'm too polite, or too shy, or too tender hearted or something to pitch a fit. I've politely asked them to be more diligent with their dirt-gathering, but to no avail. Trouble is, I'm also too tender hearted to fire them. Espcially when Linda's last words to me as she's leaving are always, "I love you." Now how do you fire someone who says that?
JD: You're right. We didn't have a d.w. on Baywood Drive. Maybe this happened before we moved from Randall Road. Or maybe the knives were sticking up from a pan or something.
Suze: It's a mystery.
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