The Post In Which I Portray Myself as a Lazy, Materialistic Bitch Who Has No Real Problems

I didn't really have grandparents when I was growing up. They were all gone with the exception of my maternal grandfather who I saw maybe twice a year. My grandfather was old and had a lot of grandkids, and never really remembered my name. He always greeted me with "Hey girl, where's the other one?" If he saw my sister first, he switched things up and called her "girl" and asked where I, "the other one" was. I know this hurts my mom, but I truly think it's funny and sort of endearing. When Bridget and I talk about this with our cousin Doug, he gets hysterical to the point of tears. Doug was the firstborn grandchild, a boy, was the favorite, and lived nearby, so his name was never forgotten. I guess the trade off for him was that our grandfather asked him how much he weighed each time he saw him. I'd rather be "girl" or "the other one" any day if given the choice. So, I didn't have traditional grandparents. I did have a Mrs. Deen though, who was our neighbor and friend for many years and filled that capacity of grandmother quite nicely.

The year before Mrs. Deen died, Bridget got married, and I was a few months away from meeting Joe. For Bridget's wedding gift, Mrs. Deen gave her a piece of antique Noritake china from her own wedding set. Even though I'm sure she'd given up on me ever getting married, she gave me a piece too. It sits on a shelf in my kitchen and is truly the only thing I have to remember her by.

I don't tell people this for fear that they'll think I'm bragging, but I hire someone to--GASP-- clean my house twice a month. I feel the need to rationalize this, but I'm not going to. The bottom line is that I'm lazy, and I would rather spend this relatively small amount of money on this than on something else. Go ahead and judge me, I really can't care about that right now.

**Side note** The woman who sent the cleaning lady my way refers to her as "my maid." I think this is demeaning and hints at bragging, plus a maid is someone who spends a lot more time at your house and does a lot more for you. She is not someone who comes to your house for a few hours twice a month, makes more untaxed money per hour than you, and is able to send her two children to Montessori school, such is the case here.

Where was I? Yesterday I got home and found among my sparkling toilets and fresh sheets, that the cleaning lady broke my piece of Mrs. Deen china. Of all the unsentimental, inexpensive, useless shit in my house, she broke the piece of china. I assured her that it was okay, that it was just an accident, and that I wasn't mad at her. I waited until she left to cry. I had the presence of mind to not tell her that it was hand painted with gold, and was probably 70 years old. So old that it is simply called "Noritake Gold and White #10634." No fancy or cute names had been thought of back then. She's convinced that she can super glue it back together, but that would be such a disaster that I'd rather pitch the whole bag of pieces into the pond out back and have her spend her time vacuuming up the mounds of cat hair that cover every surface in this house.

That was yesterday. Today I'm going to the beach because sunshine is good for sadness. I'll spend the rest of the day looking online for a replacement piece. It won't be the same, but it's the only thing I can think of to make me feel better.