Clean Sweep

With the house finally cleared of builders and summer visitors it was time to get the cleaners in. To be honest, this embarrasses me a little. I have ample time to clean these days, not yet having found, or even looked, for a job. However, my cleaning skills are only matched by my inability to use American kitchen appliances, so a cleaner is a must.
My golfing friend Buffy recommended her service to me. If I now find myself living in "Wisteria Lane", which to be fair I do to a point, then Buffy must be the closest to Bree. Everything about her is meticulous. Her hair, her clothes, her house. She makes me look like Homer Simpson.
So I took her recommendation gratefully. She warned me the owner of the company would be a little brusque, not being an American, but assured me the Polish staff were wonderful.
I had a little trouble getting through at first..
"Hello. European Servants."
What! The name is appalling on two counts. Firstly servants died out (probably of malnutrician) in Britain in the early part of the last century unless you are the Queen. Secondly, I'm European. I felt like I was taking advantage of my own kind.
"Hello, I need a cleaning service."
"Do you vish us to provide maderials or vill you?"
Assuming it would cost less to provide them myself, I opted for the latter.
"Zo, you vill need Swifiker broom, toilet cleaner, hooly maker, vacuum, trash knot bags, toodle flipper, sparkly votnot und two buckets."
I searched desperately for a pen as I tried to list American brand names read at speed in a Polish accent over a crackly telephone line.
"Und rags. Some people provide old undervear, but rags are best."
Old underwear? Rags. I've just moved here. I don't have anything old.
"Ze girl vil be zere on Vednesday at 7 a.m. Goodbye."
7 a.m.? I know they start things early here but that is ridiculous. Still, too late to complain now, I have shopping to do....

My laundry room cupboard looks like the cleaning aisle of Jewel. I have every product known to man. It's so much more fun buying these things when you don't actually have to use them yourself. I even have brand new rags, all neatly hemmed and everything. My cleaner, sorry servant, will be impressed.

As promised Kristina turned up at 7 a.m. sharp. She didn't exactly seem impressed by my stash of cleaning goodies, but leapt upon them like a starving man gatecrashing a wedding.
"Would you like me to show you around?" I asked.
"Yes, yes," she said, stuffing things into the buckets.
"Follow me," I said in my best Hyacinth Bucket voice.
I turned round to see she had shot off towards the powder room, attacking the sink with gusto. (Or Biffo, or whatever the sink cleaner is called here).
I realised after a few minutes that her vocabulary was more or less restricted to "yes, yes", so I left her to get on with it, and I must say a splendid job she did too. Everything in the house now looks like new, and to be fair, it is.

A minute after she had gone, I had a call from the owner. I assumed he was going to check I was pleased, but he didn't bother with such niceties.
"I hev spoken to my girl, und she sez she needs bigger rags for next time. She could not clean zee floor properly. Make sure you get them pliz."
Typical, I can't even successfully buy a bundle of rags and I've already upset my new cleaning lady. It was never like this on Wisteria Lane....