As I’ve said before here, a cleaning lady is in every nook and cranny of your house, so you either better hide your stuff well if you don’t want anyone seeing it, or have complete trust in your hired help.
Since my clients have complete trust in me, they often leave things lying around that they wouldn’t normally if a real person was coming over. I’m used to it. But with that being said, last week was a real doozy. Tuesday I was at Midge’s house. Nothing out of the ordinary at first. I did notice she finally opened all the Amazon packages that were piling up in her bedroom for six months. Progress at least, I thought.
On a side note, her New Year’s Resolution to quit drinking was short lived. She hasn’t said anything to me about it but I found a half empty bottle of Vodka tucked away in the cabinet. I will still continue to send her inspirational texts until she tells me to quit. But as of now, my “Motivational Guru / Cleaning Lady” title is in jeopardy. Oh well.
But the bottle of vodka is not the reason for this post, dear reader. No, it is much more ghastly than that. It’s the kind of thing that makes you question reality, and the nature of existence itself. That day, that dreadful day, as I was cleaning the bathroom, I went to empty the trash. I’ve done it a million times, without incident.
But that day, as I reached down to grab her wooden, hand-painted oriental trash can, there it was. It was sticking out of the top like a…well, like a box to a freaking hot pink double-pronged dildo! For those of you who don’t know what that is, you’ll have to look it up. If I told you, this would become a very different site.
I recoiled from the trash can as if recoiling from a snake in the woods you mistaken for a branch. My jaw dropped to the floor and I gripped the counter wondering if I moved, would it strike? My mind filled with images I will never, ever get out of my head. Don’t get me wrong, I clean the Greys sex room every month, but this was different. The Greys are the beautiful people. The kind of people you would imagine steaming up a television screen.
Midge is old, and wrinkly, and sagging. I’ve seen her naked before and I couldn’t get that image out of my head. And it’s not like it was a regular, run-of-the-mill dildo. It was fancy, like with all kinds of bells and whistles. This thing had so many bells and whistles it could have been a train. The images I saw in that instant will haunt me the rest of my life.
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally composed myself. I peaked into the living room to see if the screams of horror escaped my mouth. Midge was sitting in her chair, sipping her coffee and reading the newspaper. Did she seem more chipper? Did I hint a gleam in her eye when I came in? She was still in her nightgown which sent an involuntary chill up my spine. I ducked back into the bathroom to assess the situation.
I just need to dump the trash and act normal. But I really should put the box in recycling. Are you insane? Oh my god, what if it’s still in the box?
Then a light bulb went off in my head. The Amazon boxes. She must have gotten a wrong package and just threw it away rather than sending it back. Yes! You have to check. Oh curiosity, such a fickle thing.
So I put on my rubber gloves and listened for any stirring in the other room. Nothing. I gently lifted the box out of the trash. It was a well crafted box, made of sturdy cardboard with a weighty top that opened like a book. The picture on the front mocked my sensibilities like a two headed camel. I slowly opened it. And…..nothing. Just the contorted plastic insert that held my sanity.
I silently placed it into my big trash bag and took a deep breath. This thing was out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unsuspecting hand to strike.
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