As unbelievable as it may seem, I don’t make a whole lot of money.
I know, right?! Surely you envision me, when you envision me, as reclined on a sable-covered chaise lounge, sipping whatever it is the wealthy sip and snapping my fingers in time to the four-piece musical ensemble I keep chained to the radiator in my boudoir.
Alas, it’s not true, this vision of me that you’ve created for yourself – although I appreciate the effort – and I must regularly turn to work outside of my full-time employment to supplement the cheese rinds and apple cores with which they pay me.
This weekend’s foray into financial fulfillment?
Cleaning. The Wily Mary and I will be cleaning. Eighteen straight hours’ worth of cleaning, by our own bid.
Makes me tired just thinking about it.
Picture, if you will, a 5350 square-foot home. Two full kitchens, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two living rooms, two fireplaces and an attic full of ponies.
I’m just kidding about the ponies.
I’ve done it to myself, and I know it, but raise a glass to Mary and Pearl this weekend, won’t you?
I’ll be thinkin’ of ya.