Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 5


What is your dream job?

Don’t laugh. A cleaning lady. I’m not kidding. From as far back as I can remember, I thought that being a cleaning lady would be the best job in the entire world. It took me until about age 8 or 9 before I learned that “cleaning lady” was an unacceptable response to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” But it was the truth.

I love to clean. I find REAL joy in making making dirty into clean, order out of chaos, and using cleaning products. When I babysat as a teenager, and after the kids would go to bed, I would clean. Empty out the refrigerator, scrub tubs, windows, whatever I found the most disgusting. Parents loved me.

Now I suspect that the comments for this post will be all, “Come to my house, you can do all the cleaning you want here.” If you mean it and provide me the details about your especially high level of filthiness, you may just entice me to show up on your doorstep with bucket and yellow gloves in hand.

Speaking of jobs, this picture was taken after a shift working at the Dairy Queen* and before my beautiful sister left for her prom. “Hey, Jill, go put your sticky, Mr. Misty and ice cream stained self over by your sister for a picture, okay? Now say ‘cheese.’ Wait, move over a little, we don’t want you getting hot fudge on her dress.”

*And, by the way, working at the DQ was THE BEST. A perk was that we could eat whatever we wanted for the whole shift. Do I really need to run through the cache of deliciousness that is held within those four walls?

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