My beloved housekeeper might think I’m insane. Her English is slightly better than my Spanish, and my Spanish is sadly lacking.
I hope I’m wrong about this, but I might’ve asked her to clean my sheep.
I have no sheep. I do have an oven. By the way, oven in Spanish is horno, not oveja.
Peace, people!
I’ve got an important job to do. It involves mold and a scrub brush. I cannot believe I’ve agreed to take on this task.
Studly Doright and I are not messy people. Well, Studly isn’t, but I am. And I have few domestic skills. While I’ve begun cooking for the Studmeister I still don’t clean for him. Twice each month a lovely woman comes to Doright Manor and makes everything sparkle like a shiny, new penny. What I do before the lovely Rosa sets foot in our home every other Friday is, according to Studly, pretty ridiculous.
On Thursday evening I go room to room inspecting for misplaced items and returning them to their appropriate positions. I scour around the cats’ litter boxes. Anything in the kitchen that looks even remotely as if it’s been used goes in the dishwasher or the recycling bin. Trashes are emptied, counters wiped down. I straighten the closet and align our shoes. On Friday morning I hide everything that’s been left on the bathroom counter in the cabinets and clean out the cat boxes one more time.
By the time I’ve finished, the house almost appears as if it doesn’t need cleaning at all. That, of course, is my goal. Well, I’m writing this at 7:25 on a cold Thursday, February evening. I guess I’d better get to work. The house isn’t going to clean itself.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 