I must have accumulated more than five dozens of table cloths / table covers through the years. French laces, some are brand new from Marseille, France, some are vintage I found in antique stores and flea markets in Europe and America, Vietnam-made cotton with embroideries, quality pieces from Turkey, USA, China, Britain, Russia, Hongkong, Philippines, Thailand, etc.
They’re gone, gone, gone, gone. Those still here are stained, torn, torn, torn, torn.
It’s Sunday morning and my face should look as bright as the Sunday morning. But I am frowning and hyperventilating because I am missing my precious table covers.
This cabinet was bursting with linens, napkins, and all. Hindi ko na nga sya maisara dahil punung-puno na. But now, look, it’s almost empty. And some of this are actually bed covers. Dito inilagay.
Where are my table covers?
Oh no, I hate to think that they were ripped and cut into pieces and landed on the prekprek of some of our maids.
This is a reality check for me. Before I hire a maid, I should include in the interview, menopause ka na ba? Ilan ang ovary mo?
Or better still, from now on, I will only employ menopausal kasambahay.
