Revolt of the Working Class

My cleaning lady needs to be fired.

The laundry is stacked literally to the ceiling...can't tell what has been washed and what still needs to be, so she'll probably need to start completely over.

The dishes haven't been done in two days.

There is just no polite way to describe the state of the bathrooms or the floors.

A week's worth of "end-of-the-year" backpack dumps are piled on the counter.

To say nothing of the bedrooms, the rabbit cage, and the garage which are all currently emanating various noxious smells.

She is definitely slipping.

I am so going to fire her. 

Just as soon as I can find her.


I didn't want to offend my gentle readers' I took a picture of the cleanest room in the house.

RIM:  This place is disgusting.

CIM:  It apparently doesn't bother anyone but you.

RIM:  The girls were definitely upset that they couldn't find any clean clothes this morning.

CIM:  They just need to look harder.  I know they had clean turtlenecks in the bottom of their drawers.

RIM:  Let's just clean it up.  You'll feel better if you do.

CIM:  No, you'll feel better if I do.

RIM:  Would that be so wrong?

CIM:  Am I crazy or didn't we just do this?

RIM:  It's been longer than you think.

CIM:  (getting worked up) Oh, so now I'm "crazy"?

RIM:  Do you really want me to answer that?