The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Skeletons in the Closet

Neil has to be on my team since I reek like week-old tuna when it comes to sports. Both Josh and Kenny have inherited Neil’s athletic ability, and I can easily envision a future full of athletic scholarships.
    Mondays and Tuesdays are grown up time. I do the mom thing, getting the boys up, doling out breakfast, and seeing them off to school. Neil sometimes goes to the gym and occasionally drags me along. I do about ten minutes on the treadmill before giving up and chatting with Sylvia between classes. When Neil is done, we have a leisurely lunch, run some errands, and basically enjoy one another’s company. The boys arrive home around three, and Neil takes his turn helping with homework. Both children had surpassed my meager spelling and math skills in kindergarten.
    The downside of my week starts on Wednesday afternoons. Neil works half a shift, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I like to think I’m an optimist at heart, but when one is forced to trundle about the house, desperate for someone to talk to, one goes a little nutty.
    When Neil was away with his SEAL team, I had a hard time keeping my fear at bay, hence my need to scrub every available surface, wash every stitch of clothing, and cook for thirty while feeding three. I would take my casseroles and pies down to the Veterans’ shelter, where I knew they wouldn’t go to waste. Military spouses often develop a coping mechanism; mine happens to put Martha Stewart to shame. My anxiety has abated somewhat now that my husband is no longer being shot at, but the paranoia is crazy-glued to my mind. I scrub the house down every evening and play games with Kenny and Josh, but there is always a part of my brain that frets over finances and mulls over statistics of traffic accidents. That’s a problem when you lose someone you love at an early age, you never quite shake the feeling that the other shoe is about to drop.
    I’d made a mistake by telling Sylvia about all this. Her good intentions aside, there was no doubt in my mind that cleaning the Kline’s house wouldn’t be my reprieve. I’m still not sure why I decided to take the job. I puzzled all day on Wednesday and tossed all night, but Thursday arrived before I could figure a way out of it.
    I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of ratty jeans, the comfortable kind with bleach stains marring the denim, and stuffed my hair under one of Neil’s SEAL caps. As per Sylvia’s suggestion, lunch for the boys was prepared the night before, so I fixed some oatmeal before rousting the kids. Neil was in the shower, so I set about gathering cleaning supplies. Not knowing what the Kline’s had in stock, I grabbed a few essentials from my own war pantry. I hadn’t cashed the five-hundred dollar check yet, mostly because I still didn’t want to go through with this.
    Neil sauntered into the kitchen, took one look at me, and grinned. “You really don’t want to do this, do you.”
    It wasn’t a question.
    Sipping my third cup of coffee, I noticed the tremors in my hands and quickly put it down. “What makes you say that?”
    Neil tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “It’s either the dark circles under your eyes, or the crazed look in them.”
    “It’ll be fine.” I waved him off. “Do I look all right?”
    “Couldn’t find a maid’s uniform?”
    That did it.
    “You know as well as I do that I’m not a maid! I’m like some kind of peasant woman ordered to clean the great lord’s feudal castle. A gnarled old hag, brought out to do the washing and to scrub the blood from the floors! I’m the Laundry Hag!” My arms flailed as I ranted at my poor, put-upon husband, who couldn’t seem to wipe the dopey grin off his face.
    I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, searching for the inner calm that had saved me from insanity while Neil was saving the world.
    “The Laundry Hag. I like it. It’s definitely memorable.”
    I opened one eye. “What?”
    “That should be the name of your business. The Laundry Hag Cleaning Services.”
    “Who said I’m going to start a business?”
    “Well, I just figured since you took the job that you’d open a full scale business, rather than clean the Kline’s house a few times and go push day old hotdogs around at the seven eleven. You know, ask for references and pick up a few more clients.”
    He was serious. I stared into his honest, hazel green eyes but found no trace of a cruel joke. “Those aren’t my only options; I do have a business