POB (partner of blogger) came to our relationship with a housekeeper.  Before POB would move in with me, I had to fire Marta, my existing housekeeper.

But, Marta was cleaning the apartment even before I lived there.

New Yorkers will understand this:  I took over my friend’s lease and her spot in Marta’s cleaning schedule.  Although I met her once, I wouldn’t know Marta if I fell over her.  Every Friday, I used to wake up super-early and take the stairs and the back door out of the apartment building.   I just didn’t want to fail to recognize her as we passed in the lobby or by the elevators and then realize that she was turning the key to my apartment.  Yes, I would rather climb over garbage than risking not recognizing the woman who cleaned my underwear and dyed all my whites blue (ooops).

Since I never saw her (by design) and her English wasn’t so great, I had to fire her by leaving a note, saying I was moving out of state and offering to give her a reference even though she ruined my clothes and I didn’t know her last name.  I left a large severance.  She wrote a note back thanking me and sending me blessings in my new home and life.  Ok, not one of my finer moments.

Enough back story.

POB’s housekeeper, Lucy, was wonderful.  She took such good care of us.  And, we in turn took good care of her.  This summer, she and her husband moved back to Poland.  She recommended someone to take her place and we offered the person the job because Lucy trusted her.  If Lucy trusted her that was good enough for us.

Well, she is trustworthy.  But we are not loving the situation.  We try not to do the mental comparisons, “Lucy did it this way. . . .”  Still, it isn’t really working out.  And, yet, in these tough economic times, we are not going to look for someone else just because we don’t feel some sort of kismet with our new housekeeper-who-is-not-Lucy.  Besides, Lucy would hear about it (through the Polish community) and then she would be mortified that she recommended someone who didn’t work out.  So, it is really out of the question.

Add that this woman also cleans POB’s father’s house.  Think, “No exit.”

“So, what do we do?”  POB asks me tonight.

“Move,” I say.

“Move?”

“Yeah, move to California.  People move for a lot less than to avoid confrontation with a housekeeper.”

“Really?  Really?  You are going to stick with that plan?”

No, of course not.  Because we aren’t firing our new housekeeper. Ever.  She inherited this position from someone we respect.  And I am not going to “Marta” her.

It is what it is: the home edition of The New Normal.