Copyright © 2008 Jennifer Hart
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of ratty jeans, the comfortable kind with bleach stains marring the denim, and stuffed my hair under one of Neil's SEAL caps. As per Sylvia's suggestion, lunch for the boys was prepared the night before, so I fixed some oatmeal before rousting the kids. Neil was in the shower, so I set about gathering cleaning supplies. Not knowing what the Klines' had in stock, I grabbed a few essentials from my own war pantry. I hadn't cashed the five-hundred dollar check yet, mostly because I still didn't want to go through with this.
Neil sauntered into the kitchen, took one look at me, and grinned. "You really don't want to do this, do you."
It wasn't a question.
Sipping my third cup of coffee, I noticed the tremors in my hands and quickly put it down. "What makes you say that?"
Neil tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "It's either the dark circles under your eyes, or the crazed look in them."
"It'll be fine." I waved him off. "Do I look all right?"
"Couldn't find a maid's uniform?"
That did it.
"You know as well as I do that I'm not a maid! I'm like some kind of peasant woman ordered to clean the great lord's feudal castle. A gnarled old hag, brought out to do the washing and to scrub the blood from the floors! I'm the Laundry Hag!" My arms flailed as I ranted at my poor, put-upon husband, who couldn't seem to wipe the dopey grin off his face.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, searching for the inner calm that had saved me from insanity while Neil was saving the world.
"The Laundry Hag. I like it. It's definitely memorable."
I opened one eye. "What?"
"That should be the name of your business. The Laundry Hag Cleaning Services."