Maria Is A Badass, Blind, Mamajama (Shut Your Mouth)
Part beloved family member and part steely-eyed assassin, Maria, our blind housekeeper killed a rat on Saturday.
Actually, how she put it (in Spanglish of course) was that she broomed it to death.
And I believe her.
Besides using it like a white cane (you should see my chipped wall paint) the broom is to Maria as the hammer is to Thor or the bow and arrow are to Katniss.
Even though I’ve never been able to ascertain through repeated questioning WHY she sweeps the entire house before she vacuums it (even the rugs) I’ve just accepted the fact that the broom serves as a third, prosthetic arm of sorts and never more so now that she’s well…blind.
(We are going to retire the killing broom. Maybe hang it on the wall somewhere like a Samurai sword.)
I’ve seen her expertly swipe her trusty broom at spider webs like a machete clearing an Amazonian rainforest, push heavy chairs around with it, and lovingly swat the little brown dog’s ass to move her outside.
And apparently, on Saturdays, while we’re at lunch—she kills rodents with it.
As the story goes, this one had the audacity to cross her path outside next to the bar-b-que. Before you ask, I have no idea why she continues to go outside in the ninety-plus-degree heat to sweep. I’ve never asked her to do it and it’s not like she doesn’t have enough to do inside—good Lord, have you met us?
Anyway, since her eyesight is shit, I assume she heard it first. Maybe it stood up on its hind legs and sassed her. I had one do that to me recently when I startled it out by my office (the feeling was mutual) and I have to tell you if I’d had a broom…
She explained her killing spree by saying that it was fair game out in the open like that, and besides, it was slow.
Since we have poison EVERYWHERE I suspect he was dying.
Now please, don’t get all “up in my face” about this. It was the last resort and I hate it too! But after a year of natural repellents, New Age sonic machines, eucalyptus oil and just walking outside at dusk and asking them nicely to vacate the premises—by anyone’s standards we have a legitimate rat infestation.
I was actually beginning to wonder on Friday if the poison was even working, when Nick, our salaried exterminator, came by (his third visit that week) to informed me that he was going through a months supply of poison every 48 hours. When he said that, a collective gasp erupted from me and the FIVE rats that were on the deck two feet away doing the backstroke in my fountain. Kidding aside (and I’m not kidding!) they have turned my sweet, garden fountain into spring break in Palm Springs.
So, as bad as I feel that it has come to this, to the fact that my blind housekeeper has to clean our toilets AND do rat-battle, I can no longer tolerate them running inside and taunting me.
Besides, having these many rodents around the property is just not sanitary.
In closing, I’m seeing to it that Maria gets combat pay. And she’s officially my spirit animal because she’s a badass, mamajama with that broom (I couldn’t do it).
And just so you know, rats don’t listen when they are asked nicely to leave. Believe me—I tried.
Carry on,
xox
