Yesterday morning I decided to forego my usual gym workout and embrace domesticity. This decision was not motivated by plans on becoming a housewife any time soon but by the fact that our newly hired maid, Viola, had disappeared.
My housemate, Miranda, and I don't have the best of luck with maids it seems. The last one smoked like a chimney, had the most unpractical and interrupting cleaning schedule (a bit of bathroom, a touch of washing up and a sprinkling of ironing throughout the day, in between her 2 boxes of cigarettes). Needless to say, she complained about us to her other employer (Miranda's boyfriend's mother) calling us disgustingly messy and said there were strange men walking in and out of the flat all the time. The only men - who might appear a bit strange to people until they get to know them - are my boyfriend and a friend who slept on the couch once. So anyway, Miranda very nicely told her that because I'm 'moving in with my boyfriend', she couldn't afford her. And the transaction was complete, with even a 'God Bless' from Alice.
So now, Maid Number 2. She's the girlfriend of the handyman of the complex so figured she was a safe bet. Until the night before her first day when Gift (her boyfriend) rang my doorbell and informed me that she had disappeared. He'd heard that she had family in Midrand but otherwise she had just taken some of his things and upped and left on Monday. I was so disturbed by this relationship crumble and really appreciated his honesty and courtesy of coming to tell me.
So, I cleaned the kitchen from top to toe, did the washing, scoured the bathroom and was just about finished with the dishes when the doorbell rings.
Enter Viola, our new maid (who had simply had a fight with Gift and gone off in a huff), here to clean the kitchen from top to toe, do the washing, scour the bathroom and wash the dishes....again.
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