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of my real estate clients, and my Pinterest account was in terrible shape and was begging to be updated. Before I made myself crazy, I decided to call Rosa and just make sure she was really back in the country and planning to come the next day. Like I said, my Pinterest account needed some serious attention, and if I could focus on that and put off cleaning for the cleaning lady until tomorrow night …
    I called her and got her voicemail. I left her a message: “Hey, Rosa, it’s me, Jen. I hope you had a great time in Mexico. I was just wondering if you’re still coming tomorrow. If you can’t, it’s no big deal, I just wanted to make sure …” Because I’d rather read a book tonight than pick up tiny Legos off Gomer’s floor . “So, y’know. Just call me and let me know what your plan is. Thanks.”
    I decided to take a break at that point, because I’d picked up a bunch of shoes and made a phone call to Rosa. Surely those tasks had earned me a break. A few hours later I still hadn’t done much except organize my Pinterest boards and try on summer clothes (if I’m cleaning up, I might as well clean out my closet, right?) and I still hadn’t heard from Rosa. It was starting to get late, and if I was going to finish cleaning for the cleaning lady, I needed to do it in the next hour or so before I went to bed. I tried her again, and she answered. “Hello?”
    “Oh! Rosa, you’re there. How was your trip?”
    “Hi, Jen. It was good. I’m glad to be back.”
    “I bet. So, are you coming over tomorrow, then? I’m trying to get ready, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it. It’s been such a busy night,” I lied.
    “Oh. Yeah. No, I’m not coming tomorrow.”
    I’m not going to lie. I was a bit relieved. I could finish organizing my closet now. “Okay. Maybe Saturday, then, or Sunday?”
    “No, I don’t think that will work, either.”
    I was perplexed. Saturday or Sunday always worked. “Okay. Well, what do you think? What have you got open?”
    “Hmm … well … nothing. I moved.”
    Shut the fuck up . I had to sit down. I was feeling dizzy. “You what? You moved?”
    “Well, my husband moved. So I moved, too. I came home from Mexico yesterday and he and the kids had moved to St. Louis. He put the kids in school and everything.”
    Seriously. Shut the fuck up . “St. Louis?”
    “Yeah. He called me and said, ‘Come here and live here with us in St. Louis.’ So I did.”
    “St. Louis?”
    “Yes. Have you heard of it?”
    “St. Louis?”
    “Yes.”
    Shut. The. Fuck. Up . I felt nauseated. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. I’m just shocked that you’re gone. I mean. Wow. Because I was planning on seeing you tomorrow.”
    “I know. But I live in St. Louis now. Javier got a job in St. Louis and the kids are in school here, and I can’t stay in Kansas City alone.”
    “Yes. Yes. Of course you need to be with your family.”
    “I know. And my family is in—”
    “St. Louis,” I finished.
    “Yes. It is nice here.”
    “Uh-huh. That’s good to hear. Well, I don’t know what to say except good luck, Rosa. Bye.”
    “Bye, Jen.”
    I hung up the phone with mixed emotions:
1. I got a reprieve. I could get back to my Pinterest boards and forget about Gomer’s room.
2. Crap, I needed to find another cleaning lady, stat. Maybe this time I’d find one who cleans behind the fridge, because ever since my conversation with Teri, the thought of what was back there had been weighing heavily on me. I mean, not heavily enough for me to pull out the fridge myself and clean behind it, but heavily nonetheless.
3. WTF, Rosa? You’ve cleaned our house for eight years—when were you going to tell me you moved to fucking St. Louis and couldn’t come tomorrow , when we were expecting you?
4. Shit, now my marriage would be in trouble. Rosa had single-handedly saved us from marriage counseling. There were kids in the mix now, and I couldn’t take any chances.
5. Was she lying to me,