N: “What are you doing?”
My sister: “I’m scrubbing the dirt and fingerprints off your walls.”
N: “Some of those are boogies.”
N: “What are you doing?”
My sister: “I’m scrubbing the dirt and fingerprints off your walls.”
N: “Some of those are boogies.”
Once in another lifetime, I cleaned houses. One of my clients was this very large voluptuous woman named, I kid you not, Roxanna. She had a little townhouse with two bedrooms; nothing fancy, but it was obvious from the first day that if she didn’t hire a cleaner, she and her two little kids would soon be unable to get in the front door. Most days I literally had to WADE through the debris in the livingroom and kitchen – KFC bags and packaging, McD’s, pizza boxes, empty liters of soda, paper cups, all kinds of crap. One of my jobs was to strip and make the kids’ bunkbeds. The first time up there, I realized little Petie was an artist with the boogers – all over his wall. I made myself wash them off, but the next time, they were back again, even more artfully displayed. After that – realizing Roxanna never went up there herself – I never bothered to wash that wall again. I figured, with his crazy mom, the poor kid needed some kind of self-expression. Right?