Amy's Biggest Fear

She's usually the salt of the earth, a great person, one you know you could trust. She willingly serves in church callings, and probably owns a bright yellow scout shirt. Now, close your eyes, I know you've been there. Outside there's a yard full of dead grass and the flowerbeds are full of weeds. You enter her house, it reeks of urine and the walls are filthy with fingerprints and slimy stuff. You can smell the dirty laundry that's piled up all over the place. She doesn't wear makeup, and her greasy hair is back in a ponytail. Her baggy shirt is stained and her sweatpants have a hole in them. She greets you with a smile, which you try to keep on your own face as you sit on the extremely spotted dirty couch. The dishes from the last few days are screaming from the kitchen counter, "wash me!" The half naked toddler with snot dripping down their face gives you a big hug, sharing their gooey goodness with you. Now you can open your eyes and go back to reality. I fear that my life is trying to merge with this woman. I can't handle it! I need a maid, just once a week or so! Even if I could afford a maid, I have no idea how you would find one up here! I think I'm defective.