Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

She's No Hazel

She arrived at 10:15.
Fifteen minutes later than the original time
she had said she would come
and forty-five minutes later than the time I had asked her to show up.
She looked exhausted,
lack luster as my mother’s sterling tea pot,
the one that’s been shoved under the kitchen cabinet
for years now.
I tried to tell myself to calm down,
to not make any judgments.
But that only worked for the first few minutes.
My fear came back when she stood there talking to me
for half an hour about my macrobiotic diet
without cleaning a thing.
It was as if she had no idea that she was there
to clean.
If I had wanted to have her over for tea
I would have baked cookies.
It was weird.
I was the one who had to keep saying,
“Well, I better let you get to work now.”
She never said it.
It didn't even occur to her.
But I have to admit,
I didn’t feel any better when she finally
did start cleaning.
I watched her drag the mop over the floor
with as much effort
as a little kid pulling his deflated balloon behind him.
It was as if I had hired my mother
to clean my house.
(My mother doesn’t clean).
She was moving in slow motion.
I told her,
"You're gonna have to scrub a little harder,
to get the floors cleaned."
I watched her intensity go from a 'two'
to a 'three'.
What could I do?
I was late for my physical therapy
so I had to leave her alone in the house.
She's worked for a friend of mine for years
so I wasn't too scared about her stealing anything.
An hour and a half later
I came home,
and she was gone.
I walked around the house,
hoping she’d surprise me,
hoping she’d really started cleaning
once I was out of her way.
But she hadn't.
There were still hairs in the tub,
and the base of the toilet hadn’t been touched.
Even the kitchen sink wasn’t scrubbed.
It was as if she hadn’t done anything
that required squatting, bending,
or sweating.
The only thing good I can say is
she was nice and she didn’t steal.
But I can’t pay $60 a week for that.