Room-maid(22)

And keep his dog alive.



Wow, deep meaningful answer.



That made me smile and I considered whether or not I should work on raising my own blood alcohol level a little, but my mess of a dinner had ruined my whole night. I wasn’t even hungry anymore. My war crimes against food had effectively ruined my own appetite, something I never would have thought possible. Since I’d failed so spectacularly at cooking, I figured cleaning couldn’t be much worse.

I retrieved the cleaning list Tyler had made up and hung on the fridge. It was then that I noticed he’d doodled a bunch of stick figures acting out the various chores and it made me smile again. First on the list was filling up the dishwasher.

I’d seen Shay fill the dishwasher many times. I knew from her past scoldings that I was supposed to rinse stuff out and then make sure the water sprays could reach the whole surface of the dish when I put it in. Easy enough. After I’d put in all the dishes I’d dirtied, I grabbed some that Tyler must have left out from that morning. I’d smelled bacon when I woke up, but he’d been long gone and so had the bacon.

I grabbed the heavy pan he’d used off the stove and put it in the dishwasher. I knew I was supposed to add soap. Shay had a powder she’d pour into the little drawer. I didn’t see any powder. Just something called Dawn that was blue. It said dishwashing liquid on the front of the bottle. This must have been the brand that Tyler used. I wasn’t sure how much to put in, so I filled the slot full, closed it, and pushed start.

Feeling very accomplished, I headed off to the hall bathroom, which was basically mine. Although guests would probably use it, too. I wondered if Tyler had guests. And how often.

And how female.

I brushed my teeth, wanting to get rid of that choco-cheese taste that lingered on my tongue. Once I’d finished up, I went into my room to resume unpacking. I’d made a lot of headway, but I still needed to get the rest of the boxes emptied.

I quickly lost track of time, humming to myself as I worked.

Pigeon started barking. I didn’t know what to make of that. Tyler had never mentioned what it meant if she barked. Did that mean she needed to go outside?

I came out to investigate. “Hey girl, what do you . . .” My voice trailed off as I took in the state of the kitchen. Massive white bubbles covered the entire floor, growing into a mountain that was already countertop height.

I gasped. Oh no! I’d turned Tyler’s kitchen into a three-year-old’s outdoor summer birthday party!





CHAPTER SEVEN

Pigeon stood in the dining room, yelping at the bubble mound.

Quickly realizing the dishwasher was the culprit, I ran over and opened the door. I was hit with a blast of hot steam and more bubbles poured out.

But at least they stopped reproducing.

I went to the linen closet and started grabbing towels. I didn’t know how else to clean up that many bubbles.

“Pigeon! Please keep out of the kitchen!” I knew she wouldn’t understand me, but I needed her to not go in there and add to the mess. I had zero idea how to wash a bubble-covered dog.

Fortunately, she stayed put and watched me as I laid down a barrier of towels between the kitchen and the dining room. While I thought the tile in the kitchen would survive the bubbles, I was afraid the hardwoods in the rest of the penthouse might not.

It took some problem-solving, but I figured out to wet the towels to mop up the bubbles. After I’d cleaned the floor, I piled the wet and dry towels on the counter. I was going to have to wash them. Fortunately, laundry was one of the things I actually knew how to do. While living with Shay I’d figured it out through trial and error and had lost / permanently damaged only a handful of items. (Apparently the ones with tags marked “dry cleaning only” were not just suggestions.)

Pigeon observed me silently as I took my pile to the stackable washer and dryer located next to my bathroom. I decided to do a rinse cycle and then wash them. I then grabbed my phone to figure out where I’d gone wrong. Turned out only dishwasher soap should go in the dishwasher. Which was different from dishwashing liquid. And there were also handy directions on how to clean soap out of a dishwasher when you used the wrong kind.

Feeling reassured that I wasn’t the only one who’d ever done this, I pulled all the dishes out of the dishwasher. When I got to the bottom rack, I noticed that the heavy pan I’d placed in there looked . . . rusted.

I finally gave in and called Shay. I explained what had happened, and after she stopped laughing she told me to send her a picture of the pan in question.

“You put his cast-iron pan in the dishwasher?” she shrieked when my text arrived.

“Is that bad?”

“So bad! I mean, there’s things you can do to try and fix it once you’ve rusted it up like that, but if you don’t want him to know . . .”

“I definitely don’t want him to know.” I’d been at his place for twenty-four hours and I was already destroying his property. This did not bode well.

“Then I think you’re better off buying him a new one. When you do, watch a video on how to take care of it. They’re not like regular pans.”

“Why would someone buy something you couldn’t put in a dishwasher?” I asked.

“Because it cooks certain foods so much better. It’s one of those things where if I have to explain it to you, you’re not going to get it. But time to replace that sucker. And make sure you season it.”