Survival Instincts
I forgot to set my alarm clock last night. I woke up this morning at a quarter to ten. My dog stared at me from a pile of dirty laundry. He needed to go out. And I needed to shower, change, and get out of the house before the maid showed up.
I’ve had the same maid for ten years. She used to clean my apartment by herself but then she started to go blind and now both her and her sister clean my apartment. Of course, they don’t really clean the apartment so much as they straighten.
My apartment needs a lot of straightening.
On the list of things I did this week, I tried to broil a steak, I burned the pan, emptied the grease down the drain, clogged the drain, and now all the other dishes, have piled up in the sink. I’m sure I could fix it, but like taking out the trash, picking my clothes from the floor, and re-throwing out the dental floss that my dog loves to drag out of the trash and eat, I’ve convinced myself I don’t have the time to deal with it. So I let them deal with it. After all, I am paying them.
Which is why on most days, I’m okay leaving the apartment in shambles just as long as I don’t get caught in the apartment when they arrive. Because then I’m admitting to them that I made the mess. That I’m the one who can’t pick up his dirty underwear. That I’m the one who throws his mail on the floor after it’s opened. That I’m the one that thinks that the kitchen counter is reasonable place to throw crumpled used tissues.
And I can’t let them think that I’m a slob.
So my solution has always been to leave before they arrive. So that they don’t know that the mess was made be me. So that they think that the mess was made by that other person who is living here but really isn’t. I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but neither does cleaning your apartment before the maid shows up, and I know plenty of people who do that.
So my one solution is to forget the shower, put on the clothes I wore the night before, leave a note for the maid to take Tucker for a walk, and run out of the house before I get caught.
Of course Tucker doesn’t understand why he’s being punished, he’s just a dog who has to go to the bathroom.
And I’m just a guy who doesn’t understand why I’m running away from the maid.
But that’s just the thing about instincts, sometimes you have no control over them.
