A Whimsical Interlude

        “My house needs cleaning,” sighed the old lady. “Who will do it for me?”

“Not I,” said the fly. “I’m incubating my babies ready for summer. You can never have too many babies in summer.”

“Well, who?” the old lady looked disapprovingly at the scattered sheets of paper cluttering the dining table and the dust collecting under the TV.

“Not I,” said the bumble bee. “Too busy! Too busy! Flowers to visit, honey to gather! A bumble bee's work is never done.”

            “Just like housework,” muttered the old lady. “Who will do it then?”

            “Not I,” said the old dog, sleeping under the table. He opened one eye, then said irritably,  “The very idea! You know I haven’t got opposable thumbs, woman. Get your Significant Other to do it.”

            “I haven’t got a Significant Other. You should know that by now, you foolish dog. Surely it’s your turn. I always have to do it!” But the old dog was asleep again.

            `Who’s going to tidy my house then?”

            Just then, two fairies flitted in and chorused together “We’re the housework fairies. We’ll do it!”

            The old lady boggled at the two ephemeral figures in front of her.

            The taller, older fairy said “First we must negotiate a contract. We don’t work for free, you know.”

            `Oh no! Of course, I must pay you.” But the old lady’s heart was downcast at these words, for she was not wealthy. But she only said, “What would you be requiring? For the cleaning. How much?”

            “We don’t do windows. That’s a different Union altogether. We don’t do cobwebs; we don't empty cat litter trays.” The fairy looked indignant.” Nasty, smelly things. We don't! We won't! And we don't do under the fridge.”

            Who bothers doing that? thought the old woman.

            “We don't like dog hair,” the bigger fairy looked at the dog and scowled. “That will be extra.”

            `Right,” said the old woman. `What else?”

            `The oven will be extra, of course.” We charge two huge dahlias and must be allowed to choose them ourselves,” said the tall fairy. The younger fairy nodded solemnly.

            “Dahlias?” The old woman’s face became creased with confusion.

            “Yes, that’s right. And the dog hair,” she scowled again at the old dog, “will be a big bunch of roses, no thorns if you have them.”

            `I do, as a matter of fact,” said the old woman, then stopped and shook her head in puzzlement. `You mean I must pay you …. in flowers?”

            `Of course in flowers!” The older fairy was incredulous. `What did you think you’d pay us with? Chook manure? Do we look like garden gnomes?”

            Now the smaller, younger fairy spoke for the first time with a voice that was whimsical and melodious. “Payment in flowers, payment with flowers. All sorts of flowers.” The old woman noticed that her hair, which curled and floated around her head, was wreathed in blooms.

            A little more negotiation took place and finally, the fairies and the old lady were happy. She could hear them singing as they dusted and polished and cleaned.

            Sometime later, she awoke with a start from her seat under the gnarled old apple tree. The dog roused himself from his place under her chair. “Goodness me, what a funny dream I had.” She looked down at him. “And I’m afraid you didn’t cover yourself with glory, old dog. Most uncooperative, you were.” His tail fanned briefly. The afternoon was drawing in and she got up from her seat. Several blossoms had pattered down on her. She brushed them off and they both went inside.

        Fairies indeed! she thought to herself as she poured her tea and sat down. You silly old woman. No such thing as fairies and certainly not housework fairies. She frowned. Although I don't remember clearing away all those papers….