InsaneJournal

The Cleaning Lady

When I told my mother I would have an apartment here, she insisted on sending to me a care package. In this package were several very warm knitted sweaters and caps, woolen socks, and the quilt that had belonged to my grandmother. "So you do not freeze in this France, Hansel," she said.

She also sent in the package a list of instructions - for my cleaning woman. Dirt is a German housewife's mortal enemy, and my mother wanted to make sure that whoever looked after my household would keep the same high standards (despite being a foreigner, as the letter explained). I do not have the heart to tell her that I am the cleaning woman here in my apartment. Also enclosed - a selection of her best recipes - for my cook. Who is yes, also me.

Some of these instructions are useful. I have learned from them how to press my shirts, how to prepare a few simple meals. But others I do not entirely understand. Why fold the underwear? Why is waxing of the floor best done bi-weekly? I have not waxed my floors since coming here - mother would be ashamed.

I do have an advanced appreciation for all my mother did unnoticed all these years. She never complained of tiredness, and always our house was in perfect condition. While I cannot live up to this high standard, the thought of her makes me remember to pick up after myself in the apartment, to wash up the dishes after supper.