And Here’s Why Our Cleaning Lady Thinks We’re Sexual Deviants

there’s nothing better than having a sparkling clean house.

or rather. there’s nothing better than walking into a sparkling clean house that belongs to you but that you, yourself, did not clean.

several years ago, we started having a cleaning lady, inga (names have been changed to protect the victims), come to deep clean our house once/month. and i’ve come to considerate it a valuable expense that is surely cheaper than marriage counseling or jail time.

who cleaned the bathroom last time (always me) and who hasn’t mopped the floors in EVER (always robb) were frequent fights before our sainted ‘inga’ arrived on the scene.

and she’s incredibly sweet. she’s from somewhere in the family of romania (#dumb #insensitive #american) and she has this custom of giving kids money the first time she meets them. i’m so awkward about having someone i pay to do work for me ANYWAY, and then she’s trying to give my kid a $5 right before she washes my floors?! it made me all kinds of anxious class warrior the first time when she met baby henry, but i learned to just graciously accept it by the time she met baby anna. (she’s so doggedly persistent about it, i wonder if it’s a bad omen not to let the ceremony happen or something?)

anyway. this is all to say that i like her and i feel very badly that she had to find what she found today.

and it only occurred to me after robb and i were both already at work and there was nothing we could do about it.

so, this winter of forever that slowly ate our souls has been working on eating my body, too. i have eczema/psoriasis issues and the winter is the worst. plus, i’m washing my hands 1,000 times/day to keep clean for the baby, so right now my hand skin is so dry, it’s cracking and breaking, bleeding and sobbing in a corner.

i’ve tried putting all kinds of goop on it to make it better, but my hands stay busy all day long, and it never has a chance to do any good. even over night, bandaids covering the goop over the wounds tend to come off as i’m changing the baby or stabbing at robb in the dark to wake him up so he will change the baby.

so i know i need an occlusive dressing- something to keep it covered overnight so it can at least get a few hours of moisturizing therapy.

and i work in the operating room, so when sterile gloves get contaminated or otherwise go unused, sometimes we bring them home to wear when cleaning the house and stuff (which, as we’ve established, i do, rarely, only when i absolutely MUST).

so, long story made way longer, this morning my cleaning lady found a surgical glove filled with petroleum jelly on my bedside table.


i’m sure she’s seen worse, right? i mean, i don’t make her dust the sex swing or anything! she doesn’t have to organize my furry handcuffs or my lubes by flavor!!


poor, poor ‘inga.’ perhaps this year instead of just a Christmas tip, she’ll get an Easter one as well. and Memorial Day…and Arbor Day….

and this is what it made me think of. and you’re very welcome for the naked brad pitt in the middle of the day.

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