The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

hour before, not wanting to be late to my therapy session. Somehow, I doubted Dr. Bob would accept the weather as a suitable excuse for tardiness.
    “Hey there laundry hag,” Leo’s voice carried over the phone and I sighed in relief to hear his voice.
    “I’m so sorry,” I began, though I still wasn’t sure why he’d been so upset the day before. We’d known each other for a decade and this wasn’t the first time I’d behaved like an insensitive buffoon.
    “Water under the bridge, Maggie, really. Can I ask you a favor though?”
    “Sure Leo, anything. Ask away.”
    “I was wondering if you were still seeking a cleaning partner.”
    “Oh my God,” I breathed. “Leo did you get fired?” I couldn’t imagine it, my in-laws without Leo. I’d have lost my spy in the enemy camp. It’s not always about you, Margaret. My mother’s voice scolded, but then again she’d never met Laura.
    “No, no you silly goose.” Leo laughed and I closed my eyes in thanksgiving. “I’m asking for Richard, not myself.”
    Ah yes, the notorious Richard Head. Seriously, what had his mother been thinking? Maybe, if I name my baby Richard Head, he’ll never have a relationship and take care of me in my dotage. Seemed like her plan was working, too.
    “Richard wants a cleaning job?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the ticking clock. I didn’t want Dr. Bob coming out and catching me on the phone, though I wasn’t sure why it mattered.
    “Yeah, he just told me last night that he lost his job at the bank, he’d been a loan officer you know and I guess he made one too many bad calls with lending. Anyhow, now everyone is tightening up their belt buckles and he’s SOL. So, I talked him into trying something new.”
    “By coming to clean with me? Leo, I just hired Marty, who is in a mess of his own and I just don’t have enough jobs….”
    “So take on a few more.” Leo suggested.
    “Well, like you said, with the economy, people are looking to scale back. There aren’t that many more jobs to be had, Leo.”
    “You should think bigger. How about cleaning for businesses? Like doctor’s offices or a law firm.”
    That’s what I love about Leo. America’s in the throes of financial crisis and he makes it sound like I’d be an idiot not to expand my business.
    It was two minutes to ten. “All right Leo, I’ll look into it on one condition.”
    “What’s that?” His tone was wary.
    “I’ll need two teams of two and you have to pair with Marty or I might throttle him.”
    “Oh goodie,” Leo said with relish. Unlike me, Leo intimidated Marty, not in a homophobic way as much as in an I don’t get you, man way. I knew Leo would not only moonlight as my team two point man, but get some actual work out of my brother. Plus the likelihood of Marty’s death-by-strangulation went down considerably.
    “I’ll check into it and get back to you.” I said and shut my phone as Dr. Bob’s office door swung inwards.
    “Mrs. Phillips,” Dr Bob made a sweeping gesture indicating that I should enter his private domain.
    “How are you, Dr. Bob?” I asked politely, forcing a smile. Possibly, I was more nervous than I’d been the day before. He ignored my attempt at pleasantry.
    “So Maggie,” Dr. Bob began as I sat on the edge of the chair. “Did you and your husband have sex last night?”
    So much for chit chat. “No,” I answered honestly, though why I felt a pang of guilt was a mystery.
    “I see.” Dr. Bob scribbled something on his pad that looked suspiciously like the word frigid. “Do you make your desires known to him, Maggie?”
    No one had ever accused me of being subtle. “Always,” I stated.
    “And how would you rate your sex drive, on a scale of one to ten.”
    Hell, he was asking me to do math? I thought I’d been done with math after scraping by the accounting class requirement for my business degree several years ago. “I’m not sure—”
    “How about Neil’s then? What would you rank his desire for sexual intercourse as being on that same scale?”
    “Um, I’m not sure—”
    “Is his higher or lower than yours?”
    “Higher,” He is a man, after all.
    “How much higher? One point, two, five?” Dr. Bob dug like a bloodhound sniffing out a meaty ham hock
    “I’d say he’s about three points higher, but that’s normal, isn’t it?”
    He didn’t answer, just scribbled away on that damn pad again.
    Do not get huffy or defensive. I counseled myself. Not like anyone else was going