One of the first people who learned I was no longer working a nine to five was the woman who cleans our house. This wasn’t because it was a luxury service that we immediately discontinued once we became a one and a half income family. She was actually scheduled to clean right when I began staying at home. She was not accustomed to me being in the house when she came to clean, so she was a little surprised the day she opened the door to find me lounging in my yoga pants and tank top on the couch. When she asked if we would still need her to clean the house, I answered “of course we do!” I know what kind of mess this house can become, and I know that I do not have the skills necessary to keep it clean. I have a hard enough time running around the house doing the pre-clean routine before she arrives.
It took a few visits for her to get used to me creeping around. I have made her jump right out of her shoes on more than one occasion. She really got the bad end of this deal when you think about it. Not only does she have to get her work done in spaces I am now occupying, but I also follow her around asking about her kids and grandchildren. I have created more mess and slowed down her work flow. There should probably be a line item on her bill for “pain in the butt surcharge.” I’m pretty sure I have given her reason enough to increase our monthly rate.
And it is true, all good things come to an end. I am soon going to be left to my own devices when it comes to keeping our house clean. Our cleaning angel informed me last week that she is following a new career path into the catering world. Her hands were getting abused too much, so she thought it was time to abuse her back a feet a little more. I am hoping that some of her scrubbing savvy washed over me as I shadowed her over the last few months. I have a feeling I am going to need to learn how to operate a mop pretty soon.