Neither Roomie nor I are what I would call “domestically gifted.” Sure, when we put our minds to it, we can make a meal, clean (messy and dirty are two different situations; I’m the former), iron (if I knew where the iron resided), and so on, but we’re busy people, and for a nominal fee, Vickie, Housekeeper Extraordinaire, will come to our home every other week and save us from ourselves.
And so it came to be that one of my favorite things in the world is listen to my roommate attempt to communicate with Vickie. I’m actually under the impression that she speaks and understands more English than Roomie gives her credit for, but I let him handle all the notes (Googled from English to Spanish, first, of course) and disjointed conversations, all of which are punctuated by question marks:
Roomie: Por favor? Uh, limpiar? Uh, el garaje?
Vickie: [Yes, that is a garage] Si.
Heretofore, I’ve not offered up my laundry for Vickie to wash, but today, I was so stressed out about not having clean clothes nor the time to wash my dirty ones before I leave town Friday, I gave in. And I wrote my own Spanglish note. I REALLY hope I got the phrase “do not put my bra in the dryer” right.