Elizabeth’s Thought of the Day

20120202-081913.jpgI have learnt a lot from my domestic worker, Elizabeth. I would imagine that should she not like ironing so much, she could run this country. She comes up with some pearls of wisdom every now and again, which always leave me thinking, “that’s another way of looking at it.”

A prime example of this is, I had bought a pizza from Andiccio’s. It was delicious, with spicy chicken and avo and basil and feta… It was the flatbread of awesomeness! In a word it was sublime!

I was super excited to eat this amazing pizza for lunch. The pizza was cooked and ready and waiting for me, except it wasn’t. As I got home I found an empty pizza box on top of the dustbin outside.I did a full sweep of the kitchen, the lounge and even my bedroom in the hope that the pizza might be underneath my pillow, put there as a surprise treat for when I went to bed. Unfortunately, the pillow was bare.

I went looking for Elizabeth, because she has this uncanny ability of just knowing where everything is. She finds stuff I didn’t even know I’d lost until she shows me. I found her hanging up washing outside. I asked if she had seen my pizza. Her answer was direct, and to the point. “Yes”. After letting that answer sink in, and half expecting her to point out that I had left it in the bath, so she had moved it to somewhere less soggy, I realised she was not going to offer any more information. I then asked her where it was. She responded with three words that changed my life forever. “I ate it…”

That was it. Not the dog ate it, or it looked like it was about to go off, or there was dust on it so it got vacuumed up, nothing of the sort. I had spelled my name out with bits of avo, but that doesn’t mean I was going to eat it. she ate it, and why shouldn’t she. I’m sure it was a lot nicer than the can of pilchards I had left out for her (her choice, not mine by the way).

However, as a consolation prize she had cooked a pot of pap, and warmed the pilchards (bones left in), placed this in a bowl in the oven, for me. Why? Because I had told her my dad used to make that for my brother and I when we were little, and he was reminiscing about his time in the bush. I had said that I missed that, meaning my dad cooking, not the food that he ate in the bush. She took it that I was much more deserving of the can of pilchards than she was, and so she had prepared this meal for me. The, having nothing for herself to eat for lunch, had eaten the pizza. I guess her way of reasoning said why would I want cold pizza, when I could have delicious pilchards instead.

And it was delicious!

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