Alana enjoyed cleaning at Bruce’s house just a pity there was not enough to do. It was like a fantasy a designer life style at it’s best. He had split up from his wife about a year ago and employed her to clean and run errands. It was Friday and as Steve was having the kids this weekend she had asked Bruce if he wanted her to cook a meal and leave it for when he came home.
The thought of cooking something with true taste excited her, cooking for children was plain and simple with predictability that sat heavy on her and there was no point cooking just for one. Now she could prep a good meal that she could leave him to enjoy, take hers home and enjoy it while having a quiet night with the telly and face book as company, bliss. They could both benefit from it, giving her something to clean up afterwards which intern made her feel better about taking his money.
When she opened the door to his house though, there was something in the atmosphere that made it feel all wrong, a stress! Lord above, she thought was there a burglar in the house! What should she do, turn and run? Nar not her style, she got her pepper spray out.
His orderly intelligence reeked through the shelves as she past them and the kitchen as clean as a new pin but the noise was getting louder and without thought she opened the door to the utility. She looked around not seeing it at first but there running from washing machine to sink was Bruce. Bruce, thought Alana, was a strong and practical name, saddly though not a bit like its owner. She walked over to the huge top loading beast (brought no doubt because it was the best and not for the purpose it was needed for; washing a few smalls on the odd occasion). She looked over to the fraught man. ‘Thank god Alana could you ring a good plumber for me?
‘Why?’
‘Have a problem with the washing machine. It keeps filling up and overflowing and I can’t stop it’ he said as he emptied yet another jug full of soapy water down the sink and rushed back to fill it again.
Alana went over to the cupboard next to the beast and switched of the electric off, stopping the soap monster in its tracks. His fretful face turned into dismay at the simplistic solution to his predicament. She tried her best to stop the laugh from erupting and humming fantasia.
In utter disbelief his stunned voice asked ‘Why didn’t I think of that! How simple, just why did I not think of that’
Alana retrieved the mop and bucket from its hiding place and began to mop the spilled contents of the jug up. At least it gave her something to clean.
‘Quantum physics I can get my head around, switching off an over filling washing machine, far more difficult! Coffee?'
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