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I am your maid.
reading this in florence pugh's voice for the full experience <3
often have trouble with social situations;
Mhmmm
I have no friends my age, few friends of any age, for that matter.
Recently, I turned twenty-five, “a quarter of a century” my gran would proclaim to me now if she could say anything to me. Which she can’t, because she is dead.
A sprinkle of the 'tism perhaps
I’ll never understand it—why people find the truth more shocking than lies.
You can be so important, so crucial to the fabric of things and yet be entirely overlooked.
In real life, the actions you take can change the results, from sad to happy, from disappointing to satisfactory, from wrong to right.
Cheaters deserve to be thrown in quicksand and to suffocate in filth.
HELP
“Never ask what a gentleman did or didn’t do. If he’s a true gentleman, he did it with good cause. And if he’s a true gentleman, he’ll never tell.”
You can’t judge a person by the job they do or by their station in life; you must judge a person by their actions.
I’m just saying that if a man I fancied was hairy, I’d get the wax out, and I’d rip the strips off him until he was clean and bare.
she's so funny
We’re all entitled to a bad day now and again, I heard Gran say in my head. But when they are all bad days, with no pleasant ones, then it’s time to reconsider things.
As I cleaned, I fantasized about all the things I would do—spray bleach in her face, strangle her with a bathrobe tie, push her off the balcony—if ever I caught Cheryl red-handed, stealing tips from one of my rooms.
Jesus Christ
She’d been married to three different men, divorced three times, taking each man for half his net worth. Isn’t that incredible?
Girlboss
Gran taught me not to use foul language, and I rarely do. But I could not deny Giselle’s appropriate use of language in this particular instance. I started to smile despite myself.
“Detective,” I say, “I’m a hotel maid. Who would want to talk to me?”
I had vivid fantasies about running into him at the college campus and garroting him with the straps of his backpack. I imagined pouring bleach into his mouth to make him confess what he’d done, to Gran, to me.
But I focused my laser gaze on him, and his limbs turned to dust, a fine charcoal particulate that spread around the room and into my lungs. I started gagging and coughing.
That’s fine. We’ll have plenty of time for eye contact tonight.
So true molly !
What I really want is to run right over his toes since he refuses to step out of the way, but this would be inappropriate.
Betstie let the intrusive thoughts win
I’d love to take my broom handle and flick him off the wall, but never mind. It’s not my place.
“How’s your mother, Juan Manuel?” he asked. “Your family’s in Mazatlán, right? I’ve got friends in Mexico, you know. Good ones. I’m sure they’d be happy to check in on your family.” Juan Manuel let go of my arm then. “No need,” he said. “They are fine.” “Good. Let’s keep it that way,” he replied. How lovely that Rodney was concerned about the well-being of Juan Manuel’s family, I thought.
Not to mention this side table. Who ate powdered doughnuts without a plate?
STOP
The behemoths’ faces mirrored each other—their long mouths agape. Clearly, they were quite impressed with my efficient cleaning techniques.
The Olive Garden is my very favorite restaurant.
she's so me
“This week. Rest assured. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” I imagine a big red bucket full of soapy water and pushing his bulbous head into it.
“I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re the best.”
That’s the trouble with pain. It’s as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most. Truth isn’t always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love. Even children know this intuitively.
When you believe in yourself, nothing can stop you.
That black eye he has? That’s because I hit him when he told me.
Omg
“Vile and evil are composed of the same letters. One begets the other.”
Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
