The Cleaning Lady Chronicles

Soap Sudz

When the inner voice demands to be heard!!

Stuck. Absolutely stuck! I have again caught myself in a trance like stare, zoning out into my cleaning bucket. Again! It's as if it were transformed into a crystal ball these days. The iridescent bubbles just sparkling with shimmering color in a white cloud ready to give me the answers to the shambles of my life. Those little colourful bubbles talking away all day to me with crackles and pops trying to tell me something.

"Tell me something!" the inner voice shoots out of my mouth as I squeeze the cloth wringing it out in a motion that dares it to defy me. "What's in my future you stupid little bubbles!?!"

I have been doing this lately. Am I going mad? I'm at the point of my nineteen year old ending marriage where the lawyers step in and greedily push you to fight for more. The more you fight, the more buckaroos in their well-appointed pockets. All in the name of paying their Porsche lease or thirteen year olds orthodontist. I have had enough of it! I will not fight their way any longer! Time to deal without them. But, with this new resolve I am left with uncertainty and questions.

My cleaning business, thank the Lord above, is a solo gig so talking to myself or rather a bucket of warm bubbly water can go unchecked by others. If I were my co-worker, I'd be watching my back these days and maybe calling the funny farm to come with the white jacket quick. I do feel like I am going a weeeeeee bit around the bend these days.

My work schedule is maxed with again a waiting list. All three kids are in one rep sport or another going in three different directions nearly every night of the week. I have gone back to night school for my next career choice (finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up at 40 - go figure!) AND, negotiations are in full swing to try and end this thing with Idiot.

"There" I again say out loud, "All done that Crap Hole" as I lock the door of my third and last home to be cleaned today. Which incidentally, is not my favorite place to be with their constant slime and filth that seems to recoat every inch of the place on a weekly basis. How is this possible for two grown adults? This truly puzzles me. But I am not here to judge, I am here to clean.

Now, I am not usually so foul and I am surprised at myself and filled with even more shame for saying such a thing seeing as their neighbour is now looking over and excuses himself for not hearing me well. Oooopps! Better put my mouth on silent out here in public I decide. I wave and smile as I pile my gear into the back of my little metallic grey hatchback, not realizing I am still muttering away to myself out loud about how close that was to being overly rude.

I have found recently that my inner voice was most definitely transferring to my outer voice and it was becoming a big problem. Waiting in line this morning when picking up buns for the gourmet manwiches that are to be kids dinner tonight, I was saying 'nice buns, nice buns' out loud more than a couple times with an eighty plus year old man in jeans in front of me. Mind you with the way he looked back at me, I think I made his day! All was good there thankfully.

Not so while waiting for my middle guy to come out of the arena dressing room last Thursday. The Idiots emails between him and Jessica A. Lang kept popping up in my mind like wallpaper in front of my eyes. Not to mention the images of what they were supposedly doing with each other when they meet up at 'lunch'.

I see nothing but that, and then red, as the rage re-sets in all over again. When this happens; I try like hell to stand perfectly still or behave like all is normal with all that running through my head, but evidently the words "F-in Bastard" come flying out all on their own. Multiple times a day!

This time while standing next to the other teams coach. Brampton, a big rival team that plays dirty. Seeing as their team clobbered ours kids team badly today he definitely thought I was talking to him! I've now been banned from the next three games! Oh well, looks like Idiot will have to reschedule his dinner plans with good ol'Jess, or as they call it in their emails 'logistics meeting' and take on some kid responsibilities.

Last Saturday I decided to take a Mommy break. Instead of the usual mommy time outs I take in the bathroom with the door locked hiding from everyone I managed to get out of the house kid free and not for work or school for the first time in months. I had no idea what to do! So, I wandered over to this very trendy bookstore/coffee house. Grabbed a coffee and wandered around with my winter coat unzipped and mittens stuffed in my pockets, half hanging out, and looked through all the isles of books trying to blend in.

I pick up the odd book here and there reading the back and the occasional last page, a very bad habit of mine, and a slightly older professor like man is standing in my way from my proceeding down the aisle. He looks at me strange, tilts his head to the side and quietly inquires 'Is it you I'm meeting here for coffee? Debra?'

I place the book I just spoiled the ending to down and state that I didn't think so. And looking relieved, he backs up a bit and says "oh, good!"

Well then, it seems I'm not the only person with this inner/outer voice issue. Then it really hits me. Oh good?????

Oh good? Christ almighty! I caught my reflection just then in the storefront window and I'd say, yes, I'd probably react the same way. In bad need of a die job, again, about twenty pounds overweight (where the hell did that all come from in the last three months?) and looking like I fell out of a Salvation Army collection box with a ratty yellow t-shirt and spotted bleach stained yoga pants, I'm clearly not a blind date dream woman! Even for a stuffy sixty something, cardigan wearing, leather patched elbow prof type twenty years my senior! What an eye opener to the work that needed to be done before I hit that circuit again.

Later that night on the rare occasion I get to soak in the tub without a child pounding on the door of our one and only bathroom, I think back over all the attempts to make Idiot's life easier. Supporting him through school and his attempt at a designation. Attempts to make things special for him in life. Making sure all the little and big things were taken care of so he wouldn't have to. Even had to entice his interest romantically towards me for decades, all in vain. All my hopes and dreams of what could have been, gone. I stare feeling absolutely drained and empty from it all and the snap crackle and popping of the bubble bath bubbles becomes nearly deafening in my overly quiet house.

Again I demand, screaming inside my head this time, "TELL ME SOMETHING!!!"