The idea of servants or any kind of household workers clashes with my pure blue collar background. The Phactor is quite handy, at times, and can fix strange things like sash weights, and the day was some pretty complicated tasks were attempted, but we had plenty of time and not much money. This was a good thing because if the switch-applicance wiring scheme did not seem to make sense, well, living without bathroom lights and exhaust fan weren't impossible, and finally, after three or four days, and turning the book upside down, the wiring made sense. Ta da! Just don't ask me to do it again. Now as older and more affluent home owners it pleases us to do the things we like (gardening) and pay people to do the things we don't like and don't have the time, or expertise, to do. But this particular morning, a saturday, first day of a long weekend, the Phactor is uncomfortable and has retreated to the library to blog because a couple of very nice Latino ladies have been hired to clean the house, really clean, really deep, and circumstances beyond our control have left yours truly in charge of the homestead. Saturday is supposed to be about a leisurely breakfast, with fresh berries, and a newspaper and NPR and gazing at the garden that still needs work even if it promises to be a hot, muggy and miserable day. So it is strangely discomforting to have these women Wisking about cleaning, disturbing my wa, but clearly others share my feelings and the love seat is just big enough for the three of us, and just enough out of the way. Perhaps to feel comfortable with this one needs to have grown up with it. But that doesn't explain the other two. Long have the cats had two servants that feed them and groom them and pick up their toys, and in a day or two they would probably be quite happy to have another person or two to do their bidding. That does explain a lot. While the Phactor is a blue-collar professional, these other two are true aristocats.