The Blinding Light Read Online Free PDF

house, which were both on my “To Do List for Monday,” but Mr. Stanford could go and jump.
    The butt plug was still soaking in the laundry and I left it, unsure of what to do with it. Did the man even realize it was missing? Where did he keep it, anyway? Did he have a drawer full of sex toys or something?
    Tuesday morning I let myself into the house and raced to the laundry for my morning dose of humor.
    Dear Mrs. Huntley,
There are two letters to post. I left them on my desk.
Good job yesterday.
I still don’t like your perfume. Change it back.
    Sincerely,
    P. Stanford.
    I held the paper up in disbelief. Good job? Holy fuck! The man gave me a compliment! Break out the champagne. Call the newspapers. Shout it from the roof.
    Of course, he canceled out the compliment with the following line. The man still didn’t like my perfume. Well, guess what, mister? It isn’t perfume. What you can smell is good ole men’s deodorant!
    I smiled and looked in the bucket. The blue butt plug still floated in its merry way. There was no way the man could get me down while I had possession of his sex toy!
    My surprise was doubled when two hours later I received a phone call on my mobile from Mrs. Martha West herself.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello, Mr. Manning. This is Mrs. Martha West.”
    “Oh, hi, Mrs. West. Just call me Jake.”
    “I am ringing to ask what in the world did you do, Jake?”
    Ahh…. “I’m sorry?” Oh, God! Did she know about the butt plug?
    “I have just got off the phone with Mr. Stanford. He tells me he wishes to give his housekeeper a two hundred dollar bonus this week. So I am ringing you, Jake, to find out how in the world did you manage to make that man happy?”
    I laughed out loud in relief. This was a turn of events that I was not expecting. “Nothing much, Mrs. West. I just cleaned his house.”
    “You must’ve done something more than just clean!”
    I chuckled and lowered my voice to speak in a confiding manner. “Let me just say, Mrs. West, that Mr. Stanford is a party animal. I guess he’s grateful that I cleaned up the mess without complaining.”
    Mrs. West hesitated. “Oh. Hmm.” I was pretty sure the woman had cleaned up some doozies after clients in her lifetime. She would understand.
    “Do I still get the bonus?” Two hundred dollars was a fortune!
    “Yes, of course. I just think there’s something more to the story.”
    I laughed. “Nope. I haven’t even seen the guy. I just clean and leave.”
    And against all things holy, Mrs. Martha West giggled like a little girl. “Very well, then. Keep up the good work.”
     
     
    T HAT AFTERNOON as I was labeling his groceries, I got a crazy idea. There was a computer in the study and I turned it on, found the word processing program, and quickly printed off a short note.
    Dear Mr. P. Stanford,
Thank you for the bonus.
There is a rip in the lounge room cushion. Please advise what you would like done with this.
The shop had no plain tomato paste, so I had to buy salt-reduced. I hope that this is an acceptable replacement.
    Sincerely,
    Your Housekeeper.
    I ran it through the scan-and-read machine to make sure it would make sense; then I carefully printed a braille label and stuck it to the top of the sheet of paper. The label said, “From your housekeeper.”
    I left the note with his mail on the edge of the counter.
    The following day it was gone. In the laundry my note said:
    Dear Mrs. Huntley,
You’re welcome.
I will take care of the cushion.
The dishes felt unclean last night. Wash them again.
Did you get my note about your perfume?
    Sincerely,
    P. Stanford.
    I laughed.
    Dear Mr. P. Stanford,
The dishwasher is making a funny noise. Shall I call a repairman?
I don’t wear perfume.
    Sincerely,
    Your Housekeeper.
     
     
    Dear Mrs . Huntley,
A repairman will come today between 10 a.m. and noon to look at the dishwasher.
Don’t forget to pick up my dry cleaning.
I need you to sweep the front veranda at least once a week.
What do you wear