When she came into my home for the first time, I'll admit. I was skeptical. How could someone as tiny as her have the stamina that she had? I mean... really. She cleaned under the bed pulling out gobs of Gracie's fur that I didn't even know existed. Then, under the dresser she went. The older I get, the harder it is for me to be down on my hands and knees and get to those hard to reach areas. I asked if she'd mind if I close the door while she worked. She concurred. Then I went about my own business of relaxing in my recliner while my house was being cleaned. "This is the Life..." I muttered as I pulled my laptop open and checked on my Facebook page.
But I knew she wasn't mine to keep. We were trying her out to see how reliable she was and if she could be trusted to do a good job for Gary's uncle Victor who can no longer clean his own house due to health conditions.
She was cute. Prompt. Worked when we told her to. The perfect maid.
We even used her for our office and efficiency apartment, which is attached to our home but separate... if that makes sense.
Let me set the scene:
It is 1:30 AM and I hear something unusual, so I spring out of bed and follow the sound to the dining room where our baby monitor (the one that lets us know what is going on in the office) is going crazy! There is noise, and I'm thinking the door must be wide open over there. My heart pounds inside my chest and I rush back to the bedroom and peek out the window to see every light in the apartment/office on. Forgetting that Gary has the lights set on a timer, I come to the only conclusion that makes sense: Someone has broken in!!
And then. It occurred to me. She was working the cat eye shift. Nobody told her to. She must have just felt the urge to clean.
Gary wakes up. "What's going on?"
"It's your Devious Maid," I say. "She's cleaning again."