That's Not How Rosie Does It...

This weekend my brother, Hank and his fiancee, Christie are coming this Saturday to visit us for several days or at least until the Raisin Bran runs out. Fortunately, for me, this is the week Rosie comes to clean our house. She comes once a month and does a superb job. It's so good I don't want to walk in when she's done and taint the sparkling clean. I'd rather stand outside with the front door open and let the aroma of Mr. Clean, Pledge, and Soft Scrub waft out and soothe me. People, she uses all the cleaning supplies in one day. I'm more of a spread-it-out-over several-days kind of cleaner. Bathrooms one morning, vacuuming another afternoon, and so on. I can think of so many more interesting ways to spend a day than cleaning the whole house at once like swimming, reading a good book, playing with the kids, root canal. And it doesn't help that Rosie has set the bar so high. When Mac or I do vacuum, or dust, we look at each other and say," that's not how Rosie vacuums, or that's not how Rosie arranges the pillows on the sofa." I mean I get a little teary-eyed when I see how clean my shower door looks. And if she rearranges my photos or knick-knacks, I leave it 'cause I figure she's got a gift and knows what looks best. And if she spoke a lick of English or I spoke a lick of Spanish, I would let her know just how much we love her. But I like to think some things are just understood.