"Renee", is the name I sprawl on the dust of my window sill as I sigh and lean my forehead against the cool and grimy pane. How I miss my Renee. Our separation has dishearten me. While Renee is cavorting on vacation in the Caribbean surf, I am languishing here in my own filth.
I try not to remember my life before Renee saved me, the dark putrid hole that was my home. She came into my world about the time my first child arrived. She invaded my personal space like a slightly caustic pint sized Mr. Clean. Renee is my cleaning faerie.
My hubby, bless his obliviousness to dirt, has never noticed I have Renee. Nor do I bother to point out this fact. You would think he would have if anything noticed, a reduction in my nag time. My mantra of "take off your boots, take off your boots, pick it up!", is less often uttered from my exasperated overworked lips. How he thinks I manage to clean the entire house on the days I work, plus all the errands thrown in, sans any industrial cleaning fluids, I'll never know. And I flat out don't care. I don't like keeping things from my husband. But it would upset the man greatly if he knew I payed for her services.
Back in the day, I resisted hiring someone to clean my house. That was something that I felt I should have been able to do myself. I come from a strong line of tidy ancestors. Some who would clean the rafters in their attics every spring and the power lines that lead into their homes. Some even had to be medicated to suppress their cleaning hard drive. I can clean, mind you. I just happen to fill my time with other things. But a woman's home is often thought of as a reflection of themselves, so that is when Renee became part, if not a secret part of my family.
"Come home soon", I whisper to myself. I can't find my car keys.
Monday, January 30, 2006
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5 comments:
you lucky, lucky woman. I would give my left arm for someone to come in my house and clean once a week. especially someone who would get the crud off the window panes, and identify the substance behind the toilet.
May Renee return from her fun in the Caribean refreshed and ready to tackle whatever your kids do.
I love my cleaning women. May they always bless us with the found car keys.
oh by the way, would you be intereted in a part time sales rep for my clothing line? My sister recommended you.
Raya
Round Belly CLothing
webmaster@roundbelly.com
:-) What they don't know, can't hurt them.
Excellent post, Miss M.
There’s nothing left to clean in my apartment, either the dust has got it - munched down by them infernal dust bunnies, or its rotted to dust and turned into one a those freakin’ vestiges of dust to dust ashes to ashes and then bunnies – these god damn rabbitz! (Ya gotta say that like yo Elmer Fudd!)
There’s colonies under my bed, there’s lost civilizations that are planning to become found once they amass large dust masses. I think Renee would flee, I think she’d renege, I think she’s just stay in the Caribbean, never to return if she had to deal with my dust!
OMG! I can so relate!..I had the bestest of cleaning ladies but she left to work full time at a diff job. I tryed a new one but found myself redoing or doing what she missed so that lasted all of 3 visits( I kept hoping she would get better) so now I am in search of a RENEE!...does she have any relatives in Quebec? (crosses fingers is desperate hope since her name is a french one lol)
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