ask me what WASN'T sore on Friday!

On second thought, don't. Okay, if you really must know, my hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, and legs were killing me. My knees however were fine because I used a folded-up blanket in a garbage bag to protect them. SO glad somebody told me about that little trick. It took me nearly six hours to clean the living room, but I was determined to get it done, and get it done well. After all, I have the Dutch-housekeepers-are-really-good stereotype to uphold, snort. But three days in a row of cleaning baseboards, floors and doorways in warm humid weather on the second floor of an old house? Go on; ask me how tired I was! (In a weird way though it was kind of fun. Well, satisfying at least to see the end result.) Oh, I forgot to tell you about the tall doorways with the large mouldings—there are three of them in the apartment—and if I remember I'll try to take a picture of one of them when I return next week. (Yes, I've been asked to come back and tackle the hallway and stairs, so no, the fun's not over yet, LOL.) I know, I'll stick the ladder in front and that will demonstrate quite nicely how I'm NOT afraid of heights.

So, I finally finish, pack up, leave, and happen to run into the tenant living downstairs. Who, upon finding out that I was cleaning upstairs, promptly invites me in so that I can decide whether I'd like to have a job cleaning her place as well. Of course at that moment the very last thing I want to do is even think about cleaning somebody else's place, but I was polite and took the tour and you would not believe the bathroom! I've never seen anything like it. It was actually two adjoining bathrooms EXACTLY the width of my claw-foot tub. I kid you not. In the first room a tub half the length of a regular one fit right in between the two walls on one side, and a litter box was on the other side. In the second room there was a small vanity on one end and a toilet on the other, with barely any room to move around. I got claustrophobic just peeking inside.

And within ten minutes I also realize that this 80-year-old-woman, bless her soul, has major memory problems as she tells me the same things over and over. I decide to leave until I realize it's raining outside, except that the term "raining" is inadequate as it's a torrential downpour! Again, I've never seen anything like it. (The next day I read that they suspect a tornado hit parts of Hamilton.) So we go to her kitchen to wait for the storm to calm down a bit when I notice mice droppings EVERYWHERE. On the floor, top of the fridge, on the counter, you name it. Before you know it I have a broom in hand and am cleaning the floor (telling her it's the one free cleaning she's gonna get) while she asks me the exact same questions she asked a few minutes before and I'm wondering if I've ended up in some kind of twilight zone. Honestly! Here I am, bone tired, cleaning the floor of a memory-impaired woman I don't even know living in a mice-filled house with the narrowest set of bathrooms I've ever seen PRAYING for the rain to ease up so I can walk the half hour to my own home and finally fall into bed. Too funny.

And that, my friends, was Day 3. Snort.