Old Folks

Every Thursday I make the trek out to Vancouver, WA to clean the mansion of some aging wealthy couple (We'll call them Mr. and Mrs. P). When first introduced to this house I was humbled by what I saw. Decades of memories, dusty ceramic figurines, and flakes of skin scattered across a very costly blue tiled floor.
It was almost scary for me to even be in this house. Medical supplies packed into closets, oxygen tanks and tubes running the length of the baseboards, grandfather clocks chiming down every last hour of life. It was hard to move without feeling like I was stuck in someone else's weird limbo of final days. Generally I still feel this way, but I've begun to appreciate, even enjoy, aspects of the time I spend in this house.

For one, I get to see a couple that has survived in the sense not being part of a growing statistic. Married after 60 years, never divorced. Coming from a background of nothing but, their love for eachother inspires me.
Two, as bad as this sounds, they could give a shit if I get that last little water spot off of their facet. At this point they're more concerned with disinfecting and vacuuming (which is A-OKAY to me).Plus Mrs. P is now blind sooo....yeaah.
Three, I'm constantly finding new rooms, closets, crawl spaces in their house so I never get bored. They have A LOT of house to explore.
Four, every time I work there I have to wipe down the bathroom ceiling with bleach to get Mr. P's tobacco tar stains out. Ever inspiring me to QUIT SMOKING! (it's pretty convincing bleah).
And five, they leave me alone. Ahhh dream clients.

In conclusion, because these clients are old, and because their caretakers are kind of old too and I hang out with them for 6 hours every week, I consider myself an honorary Golden Girl.


Do not resent growing old. Many are denied the privilege.
-- Author Unknown