A busy and important friend of mine employs two cleaning ladies to keep her gargantuan house clean and neat. I don't use the term "cleaning lady" lightly. These two women (60-something sisters) are bona fide cleaning ladies of the old school variety. They even dress like cleaning ladies, in flowered house dresses and run-down sneakers. Their pudgy bodies look like flour sacks tied in the middle. Sometimes I suspect they're actually actresses rehearsing for a play, but if that's the case they've been in rehearsal for 45 years.
I can alway use cleaning tips, so the other day I sneaked up and hid behind a couch, listening to their cleaning-lady chatter.
"He's so good-looking," one of the cleaning ladies said.
"Yah, " the second cleaning lady said. "I don't know what he sees in her."
"Me neither" the first cleaning lady said. "She's plain as a shrub."
Satisfied with their own omniscience, they went back to scrubbing the floors.