Yesterday morning Mister and I were engaged in a lively discussion about how the heck he’s supposed to know whether or not the dishes in the dishwasher are clean. As there are only 2 of us, we don’t generate as many dirty dishes as say, a family of 4. So sometimes I just keep loading the dishwasher for days, until it’s nice and full. Then I turn it on. Water and energy, yo. Water and energy.
Anyhoo, Mister suggested I get an “old lady magnet sort of thing, that you can turn upside down for either ‘Clean’ or ‘Dirty’ and then it will be obvious.” Or something like that. He did actually say the old-lady-magnet-sort-of-thing part, and this wasn’t the first time he’s requested that item. So I showed him how our stainless steel dishwasher front does not attract magnets, and after other failed suggestions I said that maybe he could just leave his rinsed dishes in the sink for me to put in the dishwasher. God love him, he replied, “Why? You’re not the maid!” And then he said something even sweeter: “If you were, you’d be the best looking maid around.”
Well now. I love the guy for a lot of reasons. But I’m here to tell y’all that I do not look my best in the mornings. I mean, I was standing there in old pajamas. I probably had one eye crusted over with the remnants of the previous night’s sandman sprinkles. And my hair – there’s just no point in trying to make sense of that in the morning. So for Mister to throw a compliment about my appearance around, well, that just endeared the guy to me a little more.
But I am still me, so I couldn’t simply accept that compliment. No. I had about a millisecond to run through all the great TV maids I’ve ever known and loved and I almost immediately blurted out, “What about Hazel? She was gorgeous and a whole lotta woman! With that red hair and those blue eyes! I can just hear her now – Mr. B.!”
I turned to look at Mister’s face, hoping he’d be impressed with what I deemed to be a spot-on Hazel impersonation. But he had already left the kitchen and was getting ready for his day. It’s a shame, really. That was probably the best Hazel I’ve ever done.