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Thank you, Pete

Peter, how do I begin to thank you? You make my whole life manageable. I advertised for a cleaner at a certain fee. When I pottered with small jobs in my garden while you did some heavy work, we chatted. You finished twenty minutes early so I made us some tea.

You told me you wanted to be my cleaner. I replied that I could not afford your fee each week, but you persisted as taking my stated price meant you always had a guaranteed two-hour job. I was amazed as you said it would be mutually beneficial, as I had recommended you to others since you fitted a mirror and shelf in my bathroom.

You don’t just clean, you change my bedlinen, you set up the coffee maker, you open the deliveries of my protein drinks. You move anything heavy. You have grown fond of me.

I love going into the bathroom after you leave. The scent of my earth-friendly cleansing wafts towards me. The sparkle, even though I’m not messy.

You do small things unasked; changing the kitchen towel that hangs on the stove. You replenish the basket of toilet tissue, even though I then take away the organized look so it appears more luxurious.

You put together my garden swing seat. You didn’t mind that I finished painting the gates myself. Someone you asked why there were drip marks outside on the brickwork. My daughter did some painting but has no idea of how it’s done. I was horrified at her workmanship, but so touched by her desire to help. You understood.

My workspace is put back after you clean more or less unmolested. You realized what I need besides my laptop, and now you replace my clutter as it was.

When you go your time, you refuse extra pay so I make sure once you have accrued half an hour that I “tip” you. Most weeks I text you at some point to tell you that I appreciate you because you have customers who are so demanding and want decking or a summerhouse built in a day, not thinking you already have two months of work booked. I always ask if you would like or want a drink. You are wise about hydration.

You were alarmed when my inhalers were not in their usual place. I reassured you because now they stay permanently in the bag I take around with me together with my cell phone because now I forget them.

My gratitude is inexpressible. My admiration is unquenchable. And when we laugh together, my heart sings.

I write what inspires me. I’m quirky. Recovered from severe trauma. Loves God. Traveller, poet.Please support me at ko-fi.com/chrissiemorri