A couple hours ago, I was spending my free Monday baking my mom a cake. I didn’t get her anything for Mother’s Day – which was more than two weeks ago – so I figured that a cake would make up for it. Eighty minutes into the process, I decided to turn on the radio. I love the radio. For some reason, I always end up listening to Q-Music rather than Radio538, which has always been my favorite channel. Anyway, I was peacefully melting chocolate in the microwave when our cleaner stormed into the kitchen and started yelling at me.
I don’t really have to many problems with people having outrageous fits, but I’d appreciate it if people wouldn’t interrupt my melted-chocolate-tasting. I need to be focused when I taste the chocolate which, surprisingly, always tastes the exact same.
“You’re not going to do that to me again!”
“Que?"
“This was the fourth of fifth time!”
“Que?”
You can guess which of those two people I was. I must have either looked so very innocent or so very infantile, with my questioning eyes and chocolate smeared all over my face.
Apparently I folded a five euro note a zillion times transforming it into a small grey thing and carefully placed it under my desk. Apparently I did that to frame my cleaner. She thought I was going to try and place the blame for my lost fiver on her. To be quite honest, our little quarrel was pretty funny. I convinced her that the fiver probably just fell (revolutionary idea, huh?) and that it was already folded before it fell.
I should get into these kind of arguments more often. Not only do they make me feel smarter, more mature and cooler than I really am, but they also make the cleaner hate me. Which means that I don’t get disturbed with comments like, “Oh this house is so dirty,” or “I bet the guys chase you around at school,” while I’m sitting at my computer checking out Facebook photos.
The only downside of the argument? The chocolate had gone solid by the end of it all, forcing me to re-melt it. It ruined my chocolate-tasting session as I had to wait a couple more minutes ‘till I could eat more melted goodness.
A couple hours ago, I was spending my free Monday baking my mom a cake. I didn’t get her anything for Mother’s Day – which was more than two weeks ago – so I figured that a cake would make up for it.
2 comments:
So..... Did you actually say "que?" or just "what?"
So uhm... You've tried to frame your cleaner 4 / 5 times already? O_o* BAD MAXIME!
BTW, if it was the fourth/fifth time, then why does she think you're trying to frame her? I mean, she hasn't been accused of anything earlier, has she?
Plus.. Why on earth would you frame her?
Somehow it does seem quite in character for her to randomly start screaming. From what I've seen of her, she is really scary/weird....
I was tempted to say "Que?" but after shortly analysing her IQ I decided it would be easier for her if I just said "What?"
No, she thinks I've tried to frame her 4/5 times, when in fact I've done nothing. Well, not consciously. Why I'd frame her? Dunno. All I can say is that this woman sometimes seems to lack common sense.
Yupz. She's scary. And weird. But in the end it's cool that we have her because otherwise my mom would probably use her slaves to clean the house. Ie my brothers and I.
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