700. The Email I Received Wherein I Am Insulted for My Inferior Cleaning Skills

“Dear MOV,
I met you at the kids’ baseball try-out’s, I’m Zack’s mom? Remember I had to drop off the lunchbox your son Tall left behind?
Anyway, thought you might want the number for my maid. Here it is: 555-7214. She is expecting your call.
Regards,
Sophie Jones”

What just happened here? The woman came by my house for 3.2 seconds with a lunchbox that I happened to have scribbled our address on with a black Sharpie when I was in one of my more Virgo moods. I opened the door and she mumbled something about Zack (I always thought his name was Jack—oops) and Tall, and then handed me the lunchbox.

I did not invite her in. Why would I? I was in my pajamas, and my Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies (that I did not want to share) were thawing on the coffee table.

I blurted out something like, “Thank you, go away now,” and shut the door.

She never saw any further than the front entry, maybe the living room too if she craned her neck a bit.  So why would she assume I needed a maid? For all she knew, the maid might have actually cleaned my house that very morning.  

I think this Sophie person was being very judgmental of my cleaning abilities. Even if I do possibly maybe perhaps a little tiny bit happen to agree with her that I might need the assistance of a maid—it’s the way she went about it that shook my mental cage.

I deleted the presumptuous email. “Here is the number for my maid,” (said in my head with a whiny mocking tone). Fine, Sophie! Here is the number for my hairdresser! Here is the number for the Botox hotline! Here is the number for Overeaters Anonymous! Here is the number for Snotty Judgmental People ‘R Us!  Ha!

I pour myself another glass of wine. Maid! Like I’m lazy! Like I can’t keep up with the laundry! Like I don’t have time to clean because I’m watching another episode of House Hunters or Top Chef!

At the next commercial, I walk through the hall, being careful not to trip on the giant pile of laundry blocking the basement door. I go upstairs to the computer, wipe off some stray dust with my hand, then find the deleted email in my virtual trash folder. Next, I open up my cell phone and punch in 555-7214. 

MOV
p.s.  And please take a second to vote for me for Top 25 Funny Moms.  A new day = a new vote.  You can vote once per day for the next two weeks.  My number is flirting with the 24-28 range, so I am very close.