So I have this cleaning lady now and it makes me feel funny. I used to do all this household stuff day-in, day-out (with the help of my sister/housemate) and now here I am watching someone else do it. Sometimes I am here while she's cleaning and I try to look super-busy because it would feel weird if I was sitting around watching "Dynasty" reruns while she was swabbing out the bathroom, right? Sometimes I go to the library, or to the mall and just walk around until she leaves. I love her, but it's weird. I don't want to come off as a 1%-er. Last winter, I used her Friday visits as an excuse to go to the movie theater and I managed to see nine of the ten nominees for Best Picture, which is why I almost won the Oscar pool this year (fuck you, Christoph Waltz, for losing it for me). Sorry, "Amour," I didn't see you until the new year.
I inherited this wonderful cleaning lady when a friend died in a freaky accident - seriously freaky - and I am ashamed to admit it, but it was not too may days after the funeral before I poached her. I am a bad person! But you know what? My bathroom is clean. But every time I come home from the movies - or the job I have now - on every-other-Friday when she comes, I walk around I look at all the dusted picture frames and all the fluffed pillows and the grease-free-stovetop and think of my lost friend Jay - especially when I come upon the freshly polished mosaic backgammon board he made for me - and I thank him for the cleaning lady. And oh yeah, the time we had together, blah blah blah, insert touching moment here.
Whatever! Clean toilet! Every time I flush, I think of Jay! Hahahahahah, he would like that. Seriously, he would.