...I bet there's some beautifully clean houses around.
I LOVED Nancy Peacock's A Broom of One's Own: Words on Writing, Housecleaning, & Life. It's just what it sounds like: essays by Peacock, who has also published two novels, about her double life spent cleaning houses for cash and writing fiction for her soul. I loved the way she described her pain-in-the-ass cleaning clients:
"The Ages house was a problem right off the bat. For one thing, Dr. Ages, recently retired and therefore home, was a prick. There is no other way to say it. He was a mean-spirited, tight power-tripper who used his money as a relationship tool. He also liked to take a poop and then leave it there for me." (p. 55.)
Literally, on so many levels, you could not make that shit up.
I also love the way she describes her writing;
"All of us have a certain amount of work we have to do to keep our lives afloat, and whatever work I choose to do, my writing life is there. Even with a room of my own, writing is not a separate enterprise. It is not a jewel I keep in a velvet box and take out only when conditions are perfect. Writing is more like the yellow rubber gloves I pull on every day. I need my gloves to keep my hands from getting too dry. And I need my writing to keep my life and my mind moist and supple." (p. 136.)
It's awesome. If you know a writer, or are a writer (ditto with housecleaning), get them this book. Immediately. Siupport this woman. We need more housecleaning authors, fewer James Pattersons and Jodi Picoults.