Greeting Our New Maid Lupe

Nikki and I were looking forward to our new maid's first visit this Tuesday, a person that came highly recommended by friends we have by the beach. Our house built in dusty Baja was in dire need of some prep work, basic human pride demanding. Our bed was concealing a complex matrix of dog hair and dust bunnies coating the guitar case and everything else thrown under there for two years. Done. Then we took care of the different trash bins overflowing with crap. What would she think? Of course the kitchen floor Mexican tiles had too many grease spots, so I took care of that since I am the one who tends to cook with wild abandon. Nikki did her clothes closet so that the lady's organizational skills would not feel challenged. I thought I ought to wash the top windows since most natives in our area tend to be of short Mayan stock, unable to reach there. But then water started to drip on the lower panes, so I ended up washing all the panes. Eventually we cleaned up the dust bunnies hanging on the walls that Lupe would not reach. Many fell on the furniture, so a quick 'Pledging' of these was called for. No big deal since I happen to be addicted to the scent of lemon Pledge. My desk was covered with books, cameras, tools and wires. We declared the area verboten. The same with Nikki's computer area. One bad move dusting the keyboard and a chapter of Nikki's next novel is gone or badly mangled. We do not want that. Same with the music keyboards, piano, electronics. A wire is so easily pulled from its socket. Verboten. Of course we expect Lupe to clean corners, our house having several hundreds of these from a quick estimate, all suffering neglect. But all shelves need to be cleared before accessing their corners, precious little objects that could fall on the hard ceramic floor and shatter, some three-part sculpture held only by gravity. We could tell her which, but this would tax her already overloaded memory from all these other client's stuff. So we ended of clearing all the shelves ourselves, placing all their content on sevaral tables that became de facto 'verboten'. Since we now had no place to have our Monday night dinner. Nikki "Windexed' all the glass shelves and together we put the stuff back. Tuesday morning we got up at six. The arrangement was that Lupe was to bring her own favorite mop and that we were to provide her with a pail. My pail had some cement deposits stuck to it so I washed and scraped it till 7AM, eyeing Nikki who was frantically cleaning around the sink for traces of my morning breakfast, sorting out the cleaning products underneath until they looked like something that Lupe would see in a normal house. This is when I saw them, those ceiling fan blades, how awfully dirty. Never noticed before how they could show off the soot from our central wood stove. What would she think? And worse, what would she tell? We have a 13 foot ceiling. I'm six foot tall and our stepladder is 5 feet. But I did it, I cleaned up all 3 ceiling fans...breaking a bulb that splintered all over the floor below. Tiny glass chards. She could could easily cut herself while rinsing her mop.

So I scoured and washed the entire floor before 8AM. However, I cut myself rinsing the mop, leaving blood marks in both bathrooms while looking for a Band-Aid. No big deal. I quickly washed both lavatories, removed finger marks from the mirrors and then rushed to put some clean clothes on. Ouch! , my own 'armoire' was a war zone. Verboten for Lupe. She would certainly tell neighbors what a slob I am.
8:25AM, any minute now she will be here. Thank heavens for Nikki's fluency in Spanish. She will guide Lupe through the tasks. We discussed tips. This hard-working woman referred to us by our elitist neighbors ought to get at least 20 dollars, an amount I just happened to have as a crisp bill in my shirt pocket. And there she was, all 5-foot of her, beaming at the gate. 'Hola Lupe'...said Nikki while our three dogs barked in unison. She then introduced the woman to the house and to her 'marido'; I immediately handed her a cup of steaming coffee and a croissant while Nikki quickly swept the crumbs from around the toaster oven. Then they sat by the coffee table and smiled profusely in Spanish.
A nine o'clock, Lupe and Nikki were still chatting about dogs, a common interest, later deciding that there was really nothing to do in the house today. We paid her one hour and a half and I gratefully gave her the $20 bill so that I can get on with the business of the day, writing this blog in quiet silence.