Good Help

The old adage is true; it’s hard to get good help.

I know I’m spoilt when it comes to having assistance on the domestic front, but I do have exacting standards (although you’d never know it looking at the state of my desk at work…)

We had a domestic goddess a while back who’d clean, wash, fold, put everything back where it went, rearrange the linen cupboard, refold and colour coordinate every thing in my wardrobe and on occasion, even throw dinner in the oven on her way out. Then she moved.

Our current cleaners are lovely, lovely people. When they first started, they said to just write anything down that needed doing. What I quickly discovered is their grip on the local language is as tenuous as a wet bar of soap. One minute they seem to have a fairly firm grip, the next it’s completely shot out of their grasp.

I did leave them a note, once, asking if they could put the clean washing back in the cupboard. They said they’d seen a note but couldn’t read my writing. Seriously, I had printed like a 12-year-old high school girl, so don’t think typing it in 36 point would have actually help.

Nearly every doona is in its cover side ways, there are single sheets on the queen sized bed and dust thick enough to grow tomatoes on the bookshelves.

Last night I noticed the spider webs on the ceiling fan in our bedroom are now so elaborate, I’m torn between attending to them myself or just spraying them silver for Christmas.

But the bathrooms are clean, their folding is so good it’s slashed my ironing bill and they are lovely, lovely people. Where did I put that can of silver spray paint??