The Housekeeper

I hired my mom as my housekeeper and it seems like a terrible idea. Day one and she's just like I knew she would be: unloading the dishwasher when I specifically told her it wasn't necessary, outside sweeping the whole patio when I only wanted her to vacuum the floors, disinfecting my light switches while there was still toothpaste smeared in the sink.

My mom does not understand anyone else's point of view. Her way is the right way in every situation. And the frustrating thing is her logic does make sense, so you can't even argue with her, but usually her point is just so irrelevant. Yet this is why I hired her.

I always mean to sweep outside but never get around to it. Disinfecting the doorknobs during a pandemic is probably a good idea, but not one I would act upon regularly. And unloading the dishwasher is what my mom did on her break from the harder work. 

There are certain things in life I just don't want to bother with. I don't want a Subway sandwich I designed -- if I knew what I was doing with food, I wouldn't have to pay someone to do it for me; just make me something that tastes good! When I walk into a salon, just make my hair look good, don't make us talk about it first. And I expect my housekeeper to just do what needs to be done.

I finally found a way to tolerate -- nay, celebrate -- my mother's obstinacy. In the end, she got everything done that I asked, plus more. It's kind of sad that I like my mom better as a housekeeper than as a mom. But I'm happy that I finally found a role for her in my life that doesn't drive me insane. I don't know how long this arrangement is going to last -- she already put my measuring cup away in a logical place where I couldn't find it -- but as long as she's here, I told her she could take a real break.