Real life | 15 October 2011

Stupidly, I left a pile of money on the fridge while I was in Italy and told the cleaner to come as usual.

I thought it would be nice for her not to lose the business. But my cleaner is not some fly-by-night who takes money for nothing. My cleaner is serious about cleaning. She often leaves me cross little notes complaining about how ‘not dirty’ my house is. Being obsessive compulsive myself, it’s a constant battle to stop her resigning. Usually I dirty the house up for her before she comes. She is rarely satisfied unless there is a trail of destruction throughout, which takes some organising. Unfortunately, I was in a rush before I went away and I didn’t have time to untidy. When I got back from Italy, she had gone berserk.

She had cleaned and cleaned and cleaned on top of the cleaning until she couldn’t find anything else to clean and then she had started cleaning things that were never meant to be cleaned in the first place.