Margaret and I have been fighting over who has to be the one to fire our cleaners. We're both dreading it, which is why we've tolerated finding undone cleaning after they've been there for so long. I told her last night that I wish I had a personal assistant to do my dirty work. How great would that be to tell my assistant, "Ludmilla, please 'take care of' the cleaners today and then conduct interviews to find some that will do a good job for around $25" Unfortunately, I only make 6% of the required income to be able to afford a personal assistant, and also my life isn't so complicated that I really require it. My poor personal assistant would be relegated to things like popping some microwave popcorn when we're watching a movie or standing guard while Kitty eats her food to make sure the racoons don't steal it--those rascals. Alas! Maybe Margaret and I'll end up playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to do play Donald Trump and declare, "You're fired."

We had recommended these cleaners to our friend Ber and she didn't think they did that good of a job, either. One time when we were over at her house, she was talking about the cleaners and what they missed or glossed over or did poorly. We were comiserating when it struck me: when did WE become the people who complained that you can't get good help these days!