Maid Love

It finally happened. Earlier this month, my family went ahead and hired a stay in maid. Now, this is not the first time that my household had a maid and there was actually a point in time when we had three. Five years ago though, after my parents retired, we had to cut some corners and the maids had to go.

It was quite a transition but, eventually, we were able to adjust and run a tight, clean ship. The fact that I’m a little on the obsessive-compulsive side made sure that my part of the house (my room, my bathroom and some parts of the kitchen) were clean. Really, I can’t sit still until all my shirts are stacked neatly in the dresser or until my bathroom floor is dry after I use it.

However, while my room and bathroom are orderly, I can’t really say they’re clean. You see, I’m really good with maintaining an illusion of order but I really don’t like to go down and dirty. I’m not, for instance, a big fan of cleaning glass. I’m not one to say “You know what, I just finished drinking beer and my glass coffee table is now riddled with circular beer stains because I didn’t use a coaster. You know what, where’s the chamois and the windex? I’m going to go crazy on this bitch!”

I’m also not a big fan of making my bed after I wake up as I see it as a pointless activity considering I’m going to mess it up again in a few hours when I turn in.

This is where Annie, our new maid, comes in and does her shit. For PhP 3,000 a month, she takes care of the dirty business. She makes my bed 5 minutes after I’m out of it. She goes crazy in my bathroom with her little bottle of Zonrox and scrubs the floor until it has this delicate luster to it. She makes sure my table is clean enough to eat rice off of. I’m telling you: this girl means business.

What makes everything so much better is Annie also falls on my side of the obsessive-compulsive scale. Yesterday for instance, I came home to find all the wires connecting the peripherals of the entertainment system in my room together neatly tied and organized. I also found the mess that were my DVD’s organized into neat stacks classified by type (Playstation, XBox, movie and software). And I found my underwear piled neatly in my undergarment drawer–the newest ones on top and the oldest, most worn out ones at the bottom. It’s almost freaky.

All of this awesomeness aside, there are two fundamental problems I see getting in the way of me fully appreciating Annie.

First of these is the fact that I sort of feel sorry for her. Sorry because she is working for one of the country’s–if not Asia’s–biggest douchebags. I mean the fact that I am writing about finally getting a maid speaks volumes about me. It’s sort of like saying “Hah! Everyone, get a load of me! I have an awesome maid! This means I’m successful! My maid comes from a place that is not Metro Manila! A place where people don’t have running water and where women have to hide from armed bandits every night for them not to get raped! I’m fucking awesome!”

The second is I find it awkward that she also does our laundry. Now most of you probably don’t see anything awkward with this but then again, most of you probably use a tissue to wipe the semen off your belly after you masturbate rather than just pulling up your boxers, allowing your man juice to be absorbed by the fabric and basically just waiting for it to dry up and become hardened splotches on your underwear.

I’ve been so used to my mom doing our laundry (most of you probably think this is worse but ask any new mom if they get grossed up cleaning up after their infants shit their diapers. And arguably, semen is less gross than shit. Arguably.) that I’m having trouble coming to terms with the fact that someone’s virgin hands are going to end up touching the splotches on my boxers; Splotches that are the direct result of only the most lecherous of urges. And sometimes, random pictures of girls on Facebook.

Additional comments powered by BackType