The Loft is Getting Gross!

The live in and I were in a small state of panic this morning. Just ask my poor sister who happen to be calling during said state of emergency. She called three times for a good old fashioned rant session but, instead of the standard “hello” I answered the phone with a disappointed “ugh, I thought it might be her calling, not you.”

You see, our housekeeper of four years had gone MIA. {Now, before you roll your eyes and think “it must be nice” you should know…it is nice. And, it’s the sole reason the live in and I are still happily married.}

Well before leaving for France we’ve been trying to reach her, only to get a message saying the number had been disconnected. And friends, our loft is starting to get gross. Our bathroom is growing pink fuzz everywhere and I have been forced to wear socks or slippers so as not to get the floor crumbs and dust bunnies stuck to my bare feet. I begged the live in to use the swiffer last night, but after one round in the kitchen area he called it quits. Fair enough.

This morning we came to the realization that, aside from the swiffer, the windex, and the broom, we didn’t even have the supplies/tools/armor to clean ourselves. We needed to either make a run to the store, start recruiting other help, or step up our stalker status. Clearly, we went with option three.

I summoned my inner Bounty Hunter and took to the web. Turns out everyone is on Facebook. Including several other people who share her name but, when pink bathroom fuzz and our spare house key is involved stalker status sees no limits. Messages were sent, and a few hours later we had contact.

Turns out it was a classic case of lost cell phone. We’re back on the schedule. And this makes us very happy. So happy, the live in did a fist pump.