Are we bad people if our domestics don’t recycle? I spend waking hours cringing over concerns like this, but stop short of rummaging through the trash. It’s scary in there. Are we going to be sued because Jack is flagrantly violating labor laws? I requested a copy of our insurance policy so I’ll be ready if the day comes, but I’m not about to be the bad cop. There’s no clear direction of where we are headed, but, by my calculations Jack’s wad will run out in about nine and a half weeks. On all things financial Jack is making scary choices. Even the domestics agree.
Getting proper care on a dime from her new roster of care workers is of the highest priority. Right now, as before, Jack insists on being like George Bush—the decider. She has no budget and certainly has no cogent plan. But, she still has access to a checkbook. She is hemorrhaging money.
She currently employs Ms. Crisco, and Miss Toast. Ms. Crisco is recycled. Her former appearance was as the caterer who prepared my late father-in-law’s repast—her term. Repast? Anyway, Ms. Crisco visited my mother-in-law in the rehab hospital with her erstwhile boyfriend in tow. Jack offered him a job. We saw that he was clearly a shyster, but Jack saw two strong arms lifting her in and out of the wheelchair. A ticket to her version of paradise. When Ms. Crisco dumped him two days later, she emerged as Jack’s caretaker and personal chef. The good news is that Ms. Crisco is whipping up elaborate meals all the time so Jack no longer has the need to haul home bags of fast food that we refuse to eat. The bad news is that I cannot open the refrigerator any more. It’s scary in there.
Miss Toast joined our happy family three days ago courtesy of Craigslist. Astoundingly, she is an incredibly thoughtful person and appears to have a work ethic. Rather than lounging during the down time like most of the domestics, she organizes drawers and cupboards and sweeps the floors. That’s in addition to her other full time job as a nanny for a wealthy family in the Palisades. Both women work incredibly long hours. They don’t complain, but are puzzled by Jack’s confusing and contradictory decisions about which hours they are supposed to work. Jack is flummoxed by her inability to come up with a scheme that allows her to live the life she enjoyed before she checked herself into the hospital. Sadly, there is no amount of money to achieve that goal.
When Jack arrived here two weeks ago it was clear she was relieved to be home. But, her physical limitations are very pronounced now, and she requires someone to tend to her basic needs all the time. She loudly rails against the notion that my husband or I assist her in any way, and politely and firmly resists suggestions on how to structure the home care. Naturally, Ms. Crisco and Miss Toast want to look to us for guidance. Out of instinct we duck and cover our eyes. It’s scary in there.
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