A Fantasy

Today a new blog friend is joining us. Welcome Marion:

I walk dog in the morning by this really swanky neighborhood near where we live – we’re not in the swanky part, we’re on the edges of the swank. The houses here are just jaw-dropping; they are beautiful old elegant places that are well, enormous.

This morning as I walked by one house, I felt huge green-monster size envy. Not so much about the house, but what was going on in front of the house. At this house, the housekeeper was showing up for work. Wearing a uniform.

A housekeeper. All along the rest of my walk I fantasized about what life would be like if we had a housekeeper.

In my mind, I saw Hazel, the housekeeper from the sixties TV show that I’d watch in reruns. Hazel called her family Mr. B and Mrs. B, and I’d want our housekeeper to call us that, too, though it would be nice if I was Mrs. W-B. She’d be warm and lovely, great with our daughter, and a good listener. Her overall mission though, would be to keep our house in order. Ship shape, immaculate.

With Hazel in our lives, I can see how the day would unfold. I’d come home from my walk, hand Hazel the leash, and then take seat at the dining room table, where I would join my husband and daughter for breakfast. We could have breakfast at the dining room table because the laundry that usually occupies the dining room table would all be folded and put away – thanks, Hazel!

For breakfast, Hazel would set out bowls of steaming oatmeal and refill our coffee – but not too dark, the right balance of milk and coffee, just the way we like it. While we eat, Hazel would share her wise observations on the day’s events. She’d clear the breakfast dishes and they would stay gone - we wouldn’t have to see them again when we return at the end of the day.

Then we’d get dressed in whatever we like because the clothes that have been on holiday at the dry cleaner have now been picked up by Hazel and are hanging – plastic wrap off – in our closet. The laundry that is usually resting in the washing machine getting a moldy smell has completed its full round and has emerged fresh from the dryer. Everyone has two socks that match. Bliss.

Then we’d all go off to work and school while Hazel went to the grocery store, the wine store, the tailor, the vet, the post office, and any other errand I could think of that would be productive but not overwhelming. If we were lucky, perhaps Hazel is dating a butcher the way Alice was in The Brady Bunch. While she flirts, she could get us a nice piece of meat for dinner.

At the end of the day – my new favorite part of the day because of Hazel - I would come home to the smell of a delicious dinner cooking on the stove. Hazel greets me at the door, takes my brief case and hands me a lovely chilled glass of chardonnay. Over cocktails, my husband and I have witty banter ….

…Snap back to reality. I return home from the dog walk to find my husband emptying the dishwasher. I tell him about the housekeeper dream and he grumpily dismisses it, saying we have too much clutter for a housekeeper. We then get in a disagreement about the scope of responsibility of our imaginary housekeeper. My daughter comes out of her room to tell me she has no clean socks. The dog paws at my leg asking to be fed. The day begins.

But someday Hazel. Someday we’ll be together.





Marion Williams-Bennett can be found @Create Joy and Wonder
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