Wednesday, December 7, 2011

My face o.k.

My deepest, darkest secret... contrary to my proletariat views and do-it-yourself attitude... is that I have a cleaning lady who comes for a few hours twice a month. I hang my head in bourgeoisie shame as I confess that, but she is the life luxury I can’t live without. I will forgo any personal necessity... haircut, eating out, clothing {obviously, if you’ve seen me lately}, anything to have my house “cleaned” twice a month. The first $140 I make every month makes me think, “I can pay Young this month, yay.”

Why the quotes? well, because Young doesn’t clean so much as make things look clean and she’s adept at moving things around so they appear tidier than they really are. Seriously, she cleans the bathroom floor with a paper towel. But knowing that she’s coming makes me deal preemptively with the accumulated flotsam and jetsam that continuously gathers.

Young, who’s real name is, I believe, Chung, is Korean and despite living in Cranston for 20 years speaks broken-at-best english. I have no doubt that if I had been living in Korea for the past 20 years my Korean would be worse than her English, so no judging here. Not everyone has a flair for foreign languages. I fired Young once, but my heart broke every time I saw her car parked across the street while she cleaned my neighbors house, and I was wracked with guilt because she looked so hurt and bewildered after I finally gathered the courage to let her go, so back she came.

Young is constantly taking English classes and listening to English tapes, as well as tapes that help her study for the Citizenship exam “every state has two Senators...” They don’t help, but I admire her tenacity.

Young cracks me up. I’m not sure if it’s the language barrier or if she really is a total kook, I don’t really care, she kills me and I’m very attached to her in a very odd, uncomfortable way. We have the most insane, dysfunctional conversations that can make me chuckle to myself for days.

When I told her I was getting divorced she immediately said “you have boyfriend?” “No”. “He have girlfriend?” “No”. “Then why you get divorce? you want boyfriend?” “Well, yes, someday that would be nice.” “Can you tell him move back in? then you get boyfriend and then you tell him move out? you wait until you have boyfriend.” “I don’t think that would be very nice, I’ll get divorced first, I think it’s the best plan.” “Oh, I don’t know...” she would say, very sceptically, and I know, with my best interest at heart.

For the next few months she would greet me with “you have boyfriend yet?” “Why not? why not? why not? you not too old and you’re face... it o.k., your face not bad, you can maybe have boyfriend” “I don’t know, I’m busy, where am I going to find a boyfriend?” “Oh, you use internet, everybody use internet, it best way.” Young has been divorced for years and is probably around my age “he crazy man, crazy, crazy, bad man, no good, no good, I don’t need that.” So I said “how about you? you use the internet to find a boyfriend?” “Oh nooooooo, it too dangerous!” “Oh, so it’s too dangerous for you, but I should do it?” “Well, maybe not, but maybe you try, you try internet.” My face o.k., not too bad, come on, have you ever had a compliment like that?

So now with the cancer, “you eat pork? you no eat pork! after surgery you eat pork, not now and after surgery ginseng, it make you hot, that good, but not hot now, now is bad, very bad.” And today... today, Young was the first one that wanted to feel the tumor. That’s right, my cleaning lady felt me up and said “oh my god, how doctor not find that? you sue her, you going to sue her?”

So ladies, if anyone needs a low cost breast exam, I can hook you up! And don’t eat pork.

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