Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Housekeepers day.

I’d not done many things I had said I might do on her last visit. Mostly I suppose I stated that I might clean out the dormer room so she could clean it. She’s been after me for years to get up there and separate out the “good stuff” from the “bad stuff” and she would get up there with her tools.

Now, that room up there, as I told her, contains the papers from half my life and some of the stuff laying about is as old as forever, and, well, hell, I treat it like an attic.

We discussed some of my short comings standing at the foot of the stairs, neither of us making an effort to look up there. Then we changed the conversation.

It appeared that she wanted to talk about taking her cat to the vet to be neutered, then she was off on men in general, and described to me several methods of castration – along with the contention that castration was the best way of taming the beastly male.

Perhaps I did check to be sure I was whole after she left. If not check I did have to pee and while I was at it I scratched. Everything was fine.

I did accuse her of enjoying her poor cats trip to the vet, and she said she would. Maybe, she said, he would stop biting at her neck then.

Housekeeper, Housekeeper. I think you need to attack Hubby. She said he’d hurt his knee; and that she’d told him she didn’t want him shopping with her for her new jeans.

Oh? Why?

She thrust a dust pan with a dead mouse in it saying my rat poison was working, and that none of her jeans fit right anymore – they were getting too tight.

As she was leaving, I asked her how old she was and she pretended to not hear me.

Is ignoring the pay master a fireable offense, or does it only count if it occurs before the check is cut? Um,, that was a bad choice of words.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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