The People’s Princess PT 3

Relationship status: Lady Di’s car crash.

I did not see that one coming.

My boyfriend demanding me to apologize to the maid hit me hard. I was seething and hungry for blood. Our relationship was going towards the light faster than Lady Di after hitting that tunnel. He needed to backtrack on that or it was over. Life or death, there was no other way.

After lots of bitching about him with anyone willing to listen therapy, I finally forgave him. In fact, me being a delusional bitch the eternal optimist, thought that we could do the housework together, as a loving couple. You know, sticks and stones may break your bones, but it’s the bad decisions that scar you for life.

Olivier went full psycho and kept on passing his fingers in the areas where I had cleaned to make a statement. What did he expect? I literally learned that day how to hold a broom – the last time I held a broom was when I was 12 and I was waiting for my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. And I’m not one to count, but it’s been a while since that happened. What was up his ass? Had he been this strict with that cunt, we would not be in this situation right now. Why was he flexing his superior cleaning skills on me? I’m not stupid, I decided not to learn on purpose. There is a difference.

However, it may be, I set myself off to find another maid or I would “accidentally” store the knives in my boyfriend’s belly. The second maid arrived, and after two successful weeks with her, she quit on us. First she told us that her husband’s brother had passed away. Then she told us she was pregnant and would not come anymore. What the fuck?

Is there something in the water or are my vibes that strong that I’m literally killing people I don’t even know of? Seriously, the first maid’s entire family passed away, and now the second one’s too? These women are living such exciting times whereas the highlight of my day is when constipation isn’t a part of it.

After a few more miserable weeks, I found the third maid, who seemed very professional. Actually, she was a bit too professional for my taste; she cleaned houses, took care of children, pets, and was also a psychologist back in her country of origin. Weird, but not weird enough to not hire her.

She was cleaning the bathroom when she noticed my cat and the following conversation happened:

Her: He’s such a fat cat, why isn’t he on a diet?
Me: He is technically, but he doesn’t lose weight, so that’s causing a lot of issues in the family.
Her: Oh, really? Do you fight a lot with your boyfriend?
Me: Only when he blames me for fattening the cat.
Her: So how does that make you feel?

I was about to reply when I realized she was sitting on the couch, bathroom undone, and was already analyzing me. What the fuck? There was no polite way of telling her I needed her to scrub the toilet, not explore my daddy issues.

God, am I a joke to you?

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