I have written here before about how obsessively clean Zambians are. Imelda, the housekeeper at my current guesthouse, is even more scrubby than most. In addition to the usual mopping and sweeping, she does things like washing out the trash cans every morning.
I grew up with scrubby people, so I'm used to this. When I was a kid, my grandmother was famous for practically snatching the clothes right off you to wash them. Like Zambians, she ironed everything, including underwear. My mom followed me around, scooping up my discarded possessions. Of course, I married the king of the scrubbies.
This morning Imelda started cleaning the kitchen while I was still eating breakfast. I walked away to rinse out some undies, and when I came back a few minutes later, my coffee cup was washed out and stacked in the drying rack. It kind of made me nostalgic for home. And it was a great excuse to go out for a cappuchino.
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My late dad's wife was -- heck, probably still is -- notorious for making off with our glasses before we were finished with them. No beverage was safe -- we almost didn't dare leave the room. When I accidentally do it to Jeff at home now, he'll complain that he's been Joyced...
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