Saturday, April 14, 2007


We were out of town most of the day yesterday, which meant leaving the maid to go about her business here on her own. (Quick recap for the uninitiated: She's not really a maid, but a cleaning lady [girl, really] who comes twice a week. She's worked for our landlord for years, so we either had to keep her or fire her, which is why she spends 10 hours a week in our house making busywork for herself.) As there's generally very little for her to do here, she spends most of her time re-arranging our stuff, which we used to find infurating until we decided to find it amusing. (Frankly, it's still kind of infuriating.)

So it's Friday, the weather's nice, and your employers inform you that they're leaving and won't be back. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fluff up the sofa cushions, turn out the lights and head to the movies, right? That's not how it works here. Without us to get in her way, she could finally throw herself into her work like never before.

For example, the living room rug is missing. It was here when we left, but I guess she decided that the living room would look better rugless. So she moved all the furniture - some of it quite heavy - rolled up the rug, and put it...somewhere. We'll let you know if it ever turns up. The small bathroom rugs are gone, too. Perhaps Mexicans don't use rugs after mid-April. Our guidebook is silent on this.

Also gone from the bathroom is the spare toilet paper, which turned up in the kitchen pantry, beside two big bags of charcol of uncertain provenance. We had a large cardboard box that we were using to store some miscellaneous junk and which doubled, college dorm-style, as an end table. The box has been discarded and the junk...uh, it's here somewhere. A number of items set aside to be packed for an upcoming trip have been returned to wherever she feels they ought to have been kept in the first place. The book I'm currently reading is no longer cluttering up the nightstand, but is back on the living room shelf.

There are some seriously dangerous-looking splinters sticking up from the newly-uncarpeted living room floor. I'd file them down if I had any idea where the toolbox was.


Anonymous said...

Bet you a carrot that she took them home or somewhere else to be cleaned.

On the other hand, maybe you ought to check under the splinters for cerebral blood stains, in case there was an unexpected beheading or two that took place whilst you were gone.

Anonymous said...

My God Frank you actually own a tool box?!