I told my husband allllll about my housecleaning debacle the other day (as a side-note: no one seems to be experiencing fever, chills, nor is anyone puking so I think we’ve safely skirted any E.coli poisoning.  Phew!).

Below is the conversation that followed:

ME: PLEASE Please pleaaaaasepleasepleasepleaseplease can we get our cleaning ladies back?  I’m not gonna be able to do this.

HIM: Well it’s obvious that you’re doing it all wrong.

ME: It is?!?  Well…Expert – what do you recommend?

HIM:  You should be wearing a cleaning lady uniform.

[Mom – don’t read any further]

ME:  A cleaning lady uniform?  Like…khakis and a green polo??  THAT would help me clean better?!

HIM:  No.  It has to be a maid uniform.  That would do the trick.  A French maid.  And you need to speak more French while cleaning the house.  The dirty, diiirty house.

ME:  I can see what’s dirty, diiirty here and it’s not the house.  And the uniform won’t help.  And I’m not doing it.  PLEASE Please pleaaaaasepleasepleasepleaseplease can we get our cleaning ladies back?!?

[or perhaps I WILL do it if I can get the cleaning ladies back – if ya know whadImean – wink, wink, nudge, nudge.]