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.

Shalom,

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Jane!
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.