Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Cleaning Lady was Here Again Today

Clint observed how good a job she does, and noted that he wants to always have a barefoot polish woman scrubbing his bathroom tiles.

I came home from work at noon to pay her and when I walked in she said, "Guess what I found?"

(If she had been cleaning my dad and mom's old place on the farm, it could have been a silver bar, or a glove full of cash, or a family of dead rats...)

But at my house, I couldn't imagine what she'd find that would be interesting.

"Your driver's licence!" she said with pride.

I was the only one who knew it was missing. It's been gone for a few months and I've been waiting for a good hair day before I got it replaced.

"I love you" I wanted to blurt out. Instead I told her she was amazing.

You know she's doing a bang-up job when she can find something like a DL wedged between the floor, my night table and the bed.

I SO love coming home to a clean house.

So after work, Shannon and I met Sandra at the White Spot for dinner before going to the Colossus to see The International. Who knew? We got to the theatre at 7:10 (the movie started at 7:05, but it's usually 15 minutes of previews and whatnot) but the lineup was horrific. It was a Wednesday night, people. Who watches movies on a Wednesday night? (Uh, alot of kids do. It's Spring Break, and alot of people, like me, think they need to fill up every night with a fun activity.)

We missed the movie. We stood in line for 10 minutes and it didn't move forward. Plan B involved Shannon and I going over to Sandra's to sit on her couch and watch the BBC version of Sense and Sensibilities. Which, may I say, is fabulous.

Although... although, watching He's Just Not That Into You was very fresh in my mind, and as I watched this movie written by Jane Austen about the early 1800's, I realized that the "He's Just Not That Into You" storyline works here too. Has it really been over 200 years and women still sit around, stewing for a guy to make their lives complete? For 200 years women try to second guess what every conversation, every nuance, every gesture, every sigh, every glance or every non-glance means. We over interpret, over analyze, over dream, over emphasize everything he does or doesn't do.

Guys are so lucky we care so much.

Anyways, Shannon is now having a sleepover here at my house. She'll be the princess in Drew's bed.

In other news, are you kidding me, Natasha Richardson died? Whoa. She was 45. Taking a skiing lesson on the Bunny Hill!

New rule around here. If Drew wants to snowboard - he's wearing a helmut.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. It's going to be sunny this weekend.
2. The handyman is coming tomorrow to fix broken things.
3. All 2500 pieces of mail have been delivered to the post office.



Anonymous said...

When you wrote the part about wanting to blurt out I love you to your cleaning lady, it immediately made me think:
Men must feel this way when they come home to a clean house and supper on the table.

Well, the smart ones anyways...
You and I don't need men, we just need wives!!! Send the cleaning lady my way when she's done with you...

Happy Thursday (your favorite day of the week)
:) September

Christine said...

I so seldom know that feeling--of coming home to a clean house. Sad but true. And yeah, isn't that terrible about Natasha Richardson. Her poor husband and sons. She's been a favorite of mine for years, and of course so is he.