The Maid

Dix's arm will be in a demobilizing sling for six weeks. She has some kind of wrist injury common with football players, where the ulna bone irritates the wrist bone. So the one-armed cook needs a lot of help unscrewing jars, cracking eggs, washing pans, etc., and I have a limit with the other domestic chores, so we found a housekeeper that fits the bill. In the initial interview we learned she does not so much need the money but but likes the work to stay in shape. She also says she likes to help the elderly, however, truth be told she has a year on me. We know her only by first name, and we swore to secrecy, and so our pen name will be Lucy. Friday was her break-in day. We learned she has four boyfriends but none had called yet for a date. She was finishing up when Linda came over for a glass of wine, and so we invited Lucy to join us. We had just opened the second bottle when she got a call from one of her BFs so she had to take off to "clean up".

Dix and I were just pleased as punch with the job Lucy did on the kitchen floor. I had asked her if she needed a scrub brush for the molding but she said she would just use her fingernails. Amazing. We were astounded with her speed and thoroughness. In the glow of our cocktail hour, we had all agreed to meet Lucy at the Senior Citizen's Center for the Saturday night dance. Linda crapped out but Dix and I followed through. The band was pretty good with their old-time country music. And the smoke-free atmosphere was great, can't smoke with oxygen tanks in the room, you know. There was no alcohol but Lucy brought rum balls. We were a little rusty on the two-step, especially with my plantar faciitis. Dancing with Dix in a sling was like dancing with a mannequin. I had an octogenarian ask me for a dance and when I obliged, a codger made a move on Dix. We shut the place down (at 10 p.m.).