At my daughter's suggestion, I set up an account on care.com. No one needing an "occasional babysitter" contacted me but a retired doctor in need of "some help" did.
I looked at his profile, and answered his email. He claimed to be independent; cooks, drives, shops, etc. We chatted by phone, and I suggested I come over and see his home and see if we are a good fit. I asked him how to pronounce his name "Anas" and his reply was this:
"When you have surgery, you need an anaesthesiologist. Well, just say the first two syllables; forget the rest and that is my name. Anas. "
I arrived right on time. I took a look at the porch and had a slight sinking feeling. The door was open and the doc called for me to come in.
I did not know where to look first! I felt like I had fallen into an episode of "Hoarders" and I've never even seen the show.
Stuff ab-so-lutely everywhere. Dozens of cans of Scrubbing bubbles. Papers, boxes, Tupperware containers, books, magazines, wine, and potatoes.
Double Hooboy.
We sit and "chat" and then he tells me the layout of the house and I'm to walk through. I begin my self guided tour. I cannot believe what I'm seeing. I'm overwhelmed.
And yet. Quite simply, I need the money. My previous blog posts have not done my current situation justice; H#2 left me with an incredible legacy of.... nothing. Nada.
So it comes to pass, that I take the assignment. Anas asks me repeatedly if I am dependable and trustworthy and each time I answer yes. The fifth time, I just say, "well, you will see won't you?" He wants me to work that day, but I cannot get out of there fast enough and so we agree that I will work Saturdays 8 a.m. until noon -- until he dies. "After all", he says, "I'm 79. How long can I live?"
Triple hooboy.
Week One: I cried, I scrubbed, and I laughed at his jokes. Until he told me the same joke three times. When he got to the end of the joke, he said "That was the punch line." I said, "I know." Anas, "You did not laugh." Me, "It wasn't funny." He shuffles back into the living room.
He would come to check on me working in the kitchen. I had so much to scrub I hardly paid him any attention. I did ask him, "Do you have sunglasses?"
Anas, "Yes, they are in the car." I tell him he will need them, because when I am finished with this kitchen the sparkle will be blinding. He laughs and shuffles back into the living room.
Around mid morning, I need a break and sit for a few minutes with him. He is so excited -- we watch "Riverdance" together. He offers me make me a copy - in VHS - I politely decline.
I learn that he was born and raised in Egypt. He never married, has no children and has dated as many as four women at one time. He cooks (sloppily) and he has no teeth. He likes the internet, listening to music, and collecting jokes.
Week Two: We had a rocky start as I told him I needed May 5 off. He asks me why and I snap "Why do you need to know?" I relent and tell him it's because I'm running my first 5K, and I'm pretty sure I will not be able to clean. He repeats to me his need for someone reliable and dependable. I say I am! He says he needs two weeks' notice. I say I just gave you five!
My project is to fold laundry and organize a hall closet. This sounds easy until I count the number of towels. 18 wash clothes, 13 large wash clothes, 11 bath towels, and untold pairs of pajama pants. I shake my head as I realize Anas has put my mother to shame. (Those of you who know me well, may remember when I cleaned out my mom's house, the situation was similar -- except for the smell.)
As I am working, he is cooking up a storm! By 10:30 he's got dinner made, offers me a steak and sits down to eat. I am afraid to offend him, so I cut myself the tiniest sliver of steak possible. I try not to gag, thinking about the kitchen and its previous state, but I do manage to swallow it though I can't finish it. He puts the steak and rice in a plastic container for me to take home. Hooboy.
I inform him that I'm cleaning the kitchen again. Anas is surprised by this. I tell him, it's clean and it's going to stay that way, that's why I will clean it each week. He purchased me a few gallons of bleach (at my request) so the job is a little easier. He is so happy he gives me a raise and a hug.
Week Three: Today, he wants new contact paper in the hall closet. Now, when I say "new" I mean 12 years old. So, that's what I do. I have to move 28 cans of Scrubbing Bubbles, 8 cans of shaving cream, 11 cans of air freshener, more light bulbs than they have at the local Home Depot, and.... ready... here it comes. Games. Yes, games. Dominos, and dice whose package reads: "The game of chance to get in your pants!"
Quadruple Hooboy.
