Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Lady of the Manor

I'm pretty sure my cleaning lady hates my fucking guts. And I can't help but LOVE IT.

Since she started last fall, we've had some very interesting moments:

First of all, she clearly hates cleaning my house. I've done everything I could to try to avoid the exasperated sighs and grunts that come from her direction - I literally clean up every square inch of my house before she comes - and STILL the noises.

On like her second or third visit here, she was vacuuming the hallway, and I was just coming out of my office when I asked in quite the chipper tone, "Would you mind running the vacuum around my office?"

The vacuum shut off.

She put her hands on her hips and let out a huge sigh.

Now, the original agreement when she signed on was that she wouldn't have to clean my office, so I could tell I was turning her world upside down.

She closed her eyes, hands still on her hips, and tilted her head up to the ceiling. "You....know........?"

And I knew I was in for it. I then received a ten minute lecture on how her clients sign her on with intended chores, but then feel like they can just "tack on additional chores at their whim".

Uh. I was just asking if you'd do a once-around with the machine that was in your hand and you were right outside my door anyway? In the ten minutes she took chewing me out, she could have been done and on her merry way mentally berating me for leaving a piece of lint on the floor in another room.

I found it to be very funny. And also, I never asked her to do another damn thing.

Other awkwardly funny moments:

A client dropped by unexpectedly, and as he stepped into the entryway, he looked over to see her standing in the middle of the kitchen, sweeping ever so slowly. I know it doesn't sound very funny, but it still busts me up when I think of her forlorn expression as she swished the broom all slow, as if in her mind she were singing, "Swing low....sweet chair...iot..."

One time I came home to find her already cleaning, and she asked, "Oh did you have a big meeting or something?" And I responded with, "No, I just got a manicure! What do you think of this color?" I'm sure her response in her head was, "Oh, is it called "I Don't Clean My Own Fucking House, I Get Manicures Instead?".

Another time she showed up in the late afternoon, just as I was stumbling out of my bedroom with massive bed head and sheet creases on my face all, "Yeah, I just took a little nap." Her: "Of course you did, BITCH."

Once she was still here in the early evening, and I had finished my work and was waiting on a friend to pick me up for dinner. I didn't want to just hang out in my office until they arrived, so I wandered out into the living room. She was cleaning my bathroom, so I figured it was safe to sit in the living room with a nice glass of wine and the paper. She came in all exasperated, carrying an armful of cleaning products, and RIGHT THEN I looked up from the paper while taking a sip of wine. Oh, The Look.

It's just sort of funny, this impression she is gleaning from me. What she doesn't see? That most mornings I get up at 5:45 to start work. The times I'm sitting here at midnight working. All of the nights I'm out working. All of the weekends. All of the times I'm out trying to have a social life and I have to either take client calls or stop what I'm doing to go to them or back home to work on something for them.

Instead, she just thinks I'm this bitch who would rather pay someone to do my dirty work, for sweeping is beneath me. When really, it's just that I'm so crazy busy, I work hard, I make decent money - so why shouldn't I treat myself to having someone else clean my house? (And by clean, I mean, she doesn't run around PICKING UP after me, she just dusts and stuff!) And why is she so pissy about it? She's the one who decided to BECOME a cleaning lady.

Anyway, she hates my guts, yet she has no problem cashing my checks. Lovely.