When I was first married, with very young, wild things running between my legs I hired a cleaning person. This man came to me highly recommended. A new experience, that I could not afford. Self confidence played an amazingly powerful role. Of course, I cleaned the house before he came. Completely defeating the purpose,
of avoiding,
dropping,
all the balls that I had in my arms, hands, stuffed in my shirt, in my pockets and under my chin.
Why did I do this? Because he would clean the sink. As simple as that. He chided me for how poorly I took care of the house. But he cleaned the sink in a way, I told myself, I was incapable of doing. So I would accept what he gave, in exchange for my saved pennies. The sink was just a step further than I could go. Sometime around then, I started to photograph the dishes that piled up. I relished in the complete beauty of chaos. I had to embrace my life. I don’t remember if I stop scheduling him or how life moved on. I have learned a lot from the people who I have hired over the years, lessons in self confidence, and thankfulness, and of course, how to clean my own fucking sink.
