I hit the board again

I hit the ironing board again last Saturday. I have problems with my "i" key. Sometimes it does not type the letter, so it gave me a "roning bord" and made me a samurai of the pleats.

I worked for an old aquaintance of mine - that's right - the lady with the 7 ironed pyjamas per week per family member. She has a cleaner now (it was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced), a professional one, not a "career commuter" like me. The lady has been cleaning for about 20 years and apprently was still hungry for dust bunnies and all... And she looked like a professional woman: necklace, lipstick plus an apron to protect her.

I always had my "More than just a handful" T-shirt as crumpled as a raisin. I have always considered it my business card, but never cared enough to make it look better.

So it was a relief in a way that I was hearing the hoover upstairs but it was not my hand the one who was moving it.

The good thing is that now I can look at bathroom displays (in shops who sell tiles and stuff like that) without thinking - "How many minutes does it takes me to clean these?" I can also face a mirror without trying to see from different angles if there is any smear left.

Word Carrier

I have a new blog. Why? Because the system allows me.
This clean is kind of ended, so it will get dirty in time.

You can follow me at this address: Word Carrier.

Mucho dolor

I remember I saw "Mucho dolor" (a lot of pain) on a T-shirt, in a film.

I had to let all my ladies and gents know that I am leaving them. One indian lady does not want to let me go. The day I told her that I will leave she kept me on the phone for minutes and soon after I hanged on she called me back and I had to do psychological counselling and to listen to her like we were friends.

Yesterday she was calmer, but still asked me if I am available from time to time to help her. I said yes, but who knows what I will do when she calls me. I can't understand her when she says "A good cleaner is so hard to find." I don't agree. She's too stiff in her convictions. And she complicates her life by washing and ironing pyjamas every day. I think the "cleaner crunch" should teach her a lesson, so that her family will stop ironing pyjamas. But it won't.

On my way to the second job I bought a card because the guy deserves one, no matter what. And on the kitchen table there was a big box waiting for me and a small "Thank you" note. I got emotional and I hurried to finish, for fear someone would return home and I wanted to avoid human presence because I couldn't cope. I stroke one of the cats which was happy to see me and left after leaving the key on the same kitchen table.

Bella Dustella Italia

Back from Italy. My first hours spent in Marina di Massa gave me the impression I was in Tzandarei, Ialomitza county. I mean in Genova I had a look at the dusty sidewalks and shops which looked like Romania. Then I arrived in Marina di Massa and I felt like somewhere in the south of Romania - the shops, the prints on clothes, the teenagers in front of the bowling club, the iron gates and the dogs in the yards, everything seemed like Romania.

I even went to 2 banks to try to change some money. The first bank would do that only for its customers and the second bank told me something like "Computer said no". I mean the lady explained that the process would take too long because they had some computer problems.

So I felt like at home and the first 2 days I was missing London. When I got back to London from sunny Italy I regreted because the weather was bad in England. Yesterday I had my swimming suit full of sand and today in London I had to put my fleece on.

In the airplane there was a Russian woman with a big girl. And I could hear the woman speaking Russian to the girl and the child started to cry, which is a normal reaction when someone hear Russian: I would cry too, if my mother would talk to me in Russian. In the airport I heard the woman telling the girl something about "kaleski" or "kaleska" which must be the pram. Or horse and carriage.

At the airport in London, after we landed I saw a sign "Toilets are closed to immigration". What? Immigrants should wear nappies or what? There are no borders for my bladder.