Of Mice and Men (or Housekeepers)
“There’s a problem with the laundry,” called Drema, the housekeeper. “Could you come downstairs and take a look at it?”
I hurried down the basement stairs to find Drema holding a blanket that she had taken from the dryer. The blanket was splattered with brownish red stains.
“What is this?” asked Drema. “The blanket wasn’t like this when I put it in the wash.” She rubbed at one of the stains with a finger. The mark came off. “Do you think it’s rust?” She pointed at the rim of a washing machine that was slightly rusty. “And what’s that? Is that a ball of lint?” She reached into the dryer and came out with the largest ball of lint I’ve ever seen. She rolled it around in her fingers and suddenly – staring up at her – were the beady eyes and grimacing teeth of a dead rodent. Drema was holding the decapitated head of a dead mouse.
