Good Help Is So Easy to Lose

August 14, 2011

Day three. My wife’s been gone since Thursday, visiting her family. I’ve been on my own for three full days, and things are looking grim. Mighty grim, indeed.

“On the bright side, I haven’t eaten the dog. Yet.”

On the bright side, I haven’t eaten the dog. Yet. Although there’s a good chance she would eat me back if I tried, so I’ll probably avoid that mess altogether. But I chowed through all the usable food in the house long ago — there’s nothing but fancy mustard and some sort of frozen tofu something-or-other left. And I’m not that desperate. Maybe I’ll try some of the dog’s kibble. The mutt seems to live okay off of the stuff. And I’m pretty certain it’s tofu-free.

Meanwhile, I’ve got to think about putting the house back together again. It’s amazing how quickly a place can go to hell without adult supervision — and even more, how many other people apparently took the weekend off when my wife left.

Like the Mail Fairy, for instance. I never check the mailbox. There’s nothing but pain and bills in there for me, anyway. But the Mail Fairy, like clockwork, empties the box every day and puts the day’s mail on the dining room table. So the pain and bills can be shared among all the family in an otherwise cheerful happy room, presumably.

But when my wife left, the Mail Fairy went on vacation, too. So like a schlub, I’ve been schlepping the mail from the box to the table. Or near the table, anyway. A lot of it ended up on the floor, but most of that was inside the front door, so it counts. I’m still getting the hang of this new job.

And all the other ones. Because a whole troupe of other workers also decided to slack off while my wife is gone. The Towel-Folding Dwarfs that live behind the clothes dryer? Gone. The mysterious gypsy dog walker who takes the mutt out at the crack of dawn so she won’t piddle on the floors? Out to lunch. As is the Floor Piddle Cleaning Fairy, which simply could not be worse timing. What are the chances?

Also, the mermaid who cleans hair out of the shower drain. She’s gone, too — and I really need her to come back, soon. This morning, I pulled enough fuzz out of there to make a posable Chewbacca figurine. If I can find a little shiny bandolier, I could totally sell it on Etsy. It already makes the noise. Which is… disturbing.

Meanwhile, I can’t get any new help around the place. I called the Underpants Gnomes to come by, but the negotiations fell through. They wanted to steal my underwear (for ‘profit!‘), and I wanted them to put them in the dirty clothes hamper. Finally, I said I didn’t care what they did with them; I just needed them out of the potted plants and the microwave by Monday. They hung up on me. Stupid unions.

So I guess I’m on my own on this one. The dog’s no help — and she’s not sharing her kibble, either. I suppose I’ll go finish off the mustard for dinner, and try making the place seem like an actual human has been living here this weekend. It’s going to be tough, but I’ll give it a shot. With no thanks to the staff. Chewie and I are going to give them a good talking to when they get back. *hhhnnnnggggglllllhhhh!!*