The Boy & I generally sleep till late on weekends. The maid is instructed not to enter the house before 11am for she is most likely to wake us up by the assortment of noises ranging from the clanking of vessels to the banging of doors to her squeals when she slips on water while hobbling around the house. These are all noises she uses to entertain herself and also to get back at me for being at her throat constantly to use less oil in her cooking, wash the colors & whites separately, sweep behind doors and in corners she is more than happy to overlook etc.
Sometimes however, she will insist on coming in at 8am over the weekend. She will keep ringing the bell till I get the door, and once in she'll stand outside my bedroom door and keep calling out my name non-stop, like a tape-recorder on loop, until I decide that I need to either throw a heavy vessel at her head or open the door & see what she wants.
Thankfully, good sense prevails - though not without some heavy duty swearing on my part & The Boy hissing at me that I need to learn to be patient - and I get the door. And then I run around after her shouting a host of instructions regarding what to cook, what surfaces to be cleaned for the day etc., while 'A' twists & turns around in bed looking for me.
This Sunday was one such day.
A: It’s Sunday morning. Why’re you running after your maid, giving instructions? Please don’t act like a home-maker.
Me: If I don’t tell her what to do, I won’t even get a decent meal to eat all day.
A: So give her instructions once & get back to sleep.
Me: She needs constant supervision.
Boy: Relax. Stop acting like a home-maker. Stop!
Boy: Now, go & make me some watermelon juice.
Was that my cue to stick something sharp up his ass?
Perhaps not. ‘A’ being ‘A’ made his own watermelon juice and our breakfast too :D