BAG LADY

March 1999

You know these weekly cleaning days are killing me.
Without fail every Thursday we have fallen into the
routine of cleaning mother-in-law's trailer.
That would be sister-in-law and myself.
Why?
Mother-in-law won't.
But I finally found out why she has no concept of house cleaning.
Apparently she was raised with maids!
Which still does not explain why she won't bath. Go figure.
We should all be so lucky to have a maid.
But if you can't have a maid...be a maid.

Last Thursday was no exception.
Just a little stranger than usual.
Mother-in-Law has gone to a doctor appointment.
Don't worry...they made up the expression
"Fit as a Fiddle" because of her.
Eighty four years old and will still out live me.
But just remember....I'll get there first and be waiting.

At any rate sister-in-law arrives and we enter doing
what we have to each time. Open all available windows
and doors. Gag. I start on my side and sister-in-law
starts on her side.

Sister-in-laws says,"What are these for?"
I go to look and she is pulling old cereal bags
(the ones that usually go out with the box they came in)
from under a cushion on the footstool.
I have no answer...
One, two, three, four, five, and six.
In the garbage can.
I go back to cleaning the bedroom.
Find bread bags under a stack of clothes
sitting on a box beside the bed.
One, two, three, four...must have run out of bread.
Make a mental note to add that to the gorcery list.
Sister-in-law says,"Look at this!"
Do I really want too?
No but she is laughing now so I go...
Empty greasy pop-corn bags are coming out a hanging basket,
One, two, three, four, five........
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.
Jeesh...
So now we are getting the idea that we might
know why there are ants everywhere.
So we take a really good look.
A foot high stack of used tin foil, with food
still clinging to it sits in the freezer.
One-hundred and sixty-two grocery bags
in a cabinet. Seven used baggies, yes greasy,
are propped up under the cabinet in the bathroom.
And the tops from 14 chinese take out containers
with food still clinging, made out of styrofoam,
hide in the oven.
Oh, hell this is not funny.
Think I'll wait till the year 2000.
But hubby does have a birthday coming up...

Wonder if he needs a bag?