I hired a woman to professionally clean my home yesterday.

She walked in as I was scrambling to put away the clutter she shouldn’t have to work around. I apologized all over the place, and she simply put her hand on my arm.

In her thick and gracious Uruguayan accent, she said, “Treesha. All is okay. Olga is here now.”

I think I will write that on a 3×5 card and carry it with me. Everywhere.

We returned to a spotless home. Spotless, I tell you.

The boys were appropriately amazed at the sparkling faucets, the vacuum lines in the carpet, the crisply made beds.

And it makes sense they would be so taken back. This kind of cleanliness is heretofore unknown to them.

A homemaker I am. A housekeeper I am not.

“All is okay. Olga will be back.”

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