I was a 33 year old executive with a medium sized company. My career was getting better every day. I owned my home and had a wonderful car. I had everything. Everything that is except a wife.
I had been married. My wife and I married when we were both 26. She was an executive also but with another firm. We both worked long hours and often got home after 8 pm. On weekends if we were not working, we did all kinds of different things. We sky dived, went scuba diving and even hang-glided. I thought we had a great marriage. Even the sex was exciting and fulfilling. Well, at least it was to me.
Then one day, my wife dropped a bomb shell. She came home and told me she was leaving. Apparently, she had been having an affair for some time and she told me she was in love with this guy. So by the end of the week, she had moved out. One year later, we were divorced.
I heard about 6 months after we separated, the guy had left her. A few months later, she had lost her job. I never heard why but she seemed to be in a downward spiral.
So here I was alone in home. I had dated but with my job, I found working on a relationship difficult. So often I just stayed home and relaxed.
It was early in September. I was watching the late night news. Nothing important was happening. I was half dozing and half watching. A story came on telling about the housing shortage at the local university. If I was not mistaken, I heard this story every year so I didn't pay much attention. After the weather and the sports, I went to bed.
On the way into work the next morning, I was listening to the radio. The two announcers were discussing the housing shortage. Apparently it was more desperate than previous years. They said the university needed 300 places for students. I listened but didn't give it much more thought.
On the way home, there was the story again. Ok so after hearing it three times, I started to think. I have a four bedroom house and I live alone. If I could get the right type of student, it might work out.
The next day I phone the housing department and talked with a wonderful woman. I asked a number of questions and she was very re-assuring. She told me I could interview the students and pick who I wanted. So I agreed to let my name be added to the list.
When I got home that evening, there was a message from a Marsha Simms. She was a student at the university and she wanted to come over that night if she could to discuss the room I had available. It wasn't 5 minutes after I listened to the message and the phone rang. It was Marsha. Could she come over now and talk with me? She seemed polite so I agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, my door bell rang. When I opened the door, there stood Marsha. She was about 5'6, red hair in a pony tail and she had glasses. She was wearing a university sweat shirt and blue jeans. She looked nice but plain.
After she came in, we sat and had tea. For some reason, we talked and talked and talked. I could not believe how compatible we were. Marsha was a 26 year old graduate student in her last year of school. She was from a small rural town. Her parents had been farmers until her father had been hurt. Now her mother worked to support the family. There wasn't much money but she could afford the room and board I was asking.
Finally I got around to showing her the room. I had thought I would let whoever rented the room to have the fourth bedroom as a study. This was much more than she had hoped for. I quickly thought of a few rules I needed to have in place. First, no parties. Second, no overnight guests. Third, no loud noise or music. She would have the run of the house and could use the washer and dryer. Since there was a bathroom off my bedroom, she could have the main bathroom to herself. Marsha agreed to everything. She was so happy to have a place. For the past week she had been staying with a girlfriend and had been sleeping on the floor.
We agreed she could move in tomorrow night after 7 when I got home.
At 6:30 I pulled into the driveway and Marsha was waiting for me with all her stuff on the front steps. Her friend had driven her over about 5 because she had to go out that night. So I helped her move everything into the house and up to her rooms. Marsha set to work immediately putting things away and setting up her computer.
The rest of the night was uneventful. Marsha worked on her rooms and I went to bed. In the morning, when I was showered and dressed, I went downstairs. Marsha was in the kitchen. Breakfast was ready. Bacon, eggs and toast were on the table. I looked at her in amazement. Marsha explained she had a big family and she was used to helping her mother get the younger ones off to school. The breakfast was incredible.
When I got home that evening, she had made a spaghetti dinner with garlic bread. I was fantastic. I told Marsha she didn't have to cook for me. She looked at me and told me she loved to cook and she would consider it a privilege to cook for me. How could I object?
After dinner, I looked around the house and noticed thinks looked different. I could not put my finger on it but things were a little different.
When I came home Friday, I went up to change before dinner. When I went into my room, there on the bed was a stack of clean clothes. I asked Marsha about it. She told me she had several things that needed cleaning so she did my wash at the same time. Her argument was, "Why waste water with a small load?" I could not argue with that.
Saturday morning, I told Marsha I had to go food shopping. She asked if she could come along. I told her it was not necessary. She looked at me and kind of begged me to let her come along. "After all," she said, "I've been doing the cooking and I need to know what's in the house." Again, I couldn't argue.
Sunday she made an incredible roast beef dinner with potatoes and vegetable. During dinner, I thanked her for all she had done in the past week. "But Marsha, school starts next week and I don't want you doing all this work around here. You must look after your studies. Those come first." She assured me she would not let her studies slide. Besides, she loved doing house work and cooking. It was not a burden to her.
So this was the start of our year. Every morning, breakfast was ready and every night, dinner was waiting.
I continued to notice small differences in the house. The kitchen had never looked cleaner. My bathroom was always clean and shining. My laundry was always done. Even my ironing was done.
After a month or so, I sat Marsha down. "I'm worried about all you're doing around here. I think you should be doing more studying and school work." She told me her graduate year was not that many hours of classroom time but more essays and presentations. She had lots of time to look after the duties in the house. "Well if that's the case, then I am going to reduce your rent. I can't keep taking all your money if you're doing all this around here." Marsha was so happy, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
A few more weeks went by. Marsha came to me one day and asked if I would let my cleaning lady go. I asked her why. "I don't like the job she's doing. I've been going around after her and cleaning what she missed. I'ld like to do all the cleaning around here."
