When I left my job and moved in with my boyfriend, our cash flow began to be a bit of a problem. Going from two incomes to one wasn’t as easy as we planned. So when a family member offered me the opportunity to clean her house twice a week for extra money, I jumped at the chance.
The first couple of weeks went fine; I made sure I did the best job and was enjoying it. One day, I was doing my usual routine in record time. Only the vacuuming was left. I had the radio on and was doing a bit of a boogie when I hit the vacuum into an old bookcase in the lounge. Before I could catch it, a little urn fell to the floor and smashed. I quickly vacuumed up what looked like ash and dust and sped out to buy a new urn. I found the closet match I could and returned to finish the job.
Nothing was said for a week and I thought I was in the clear … that was until my aunty came around in tears, ranting and raving about how awful my cousin was. It was then I realised that the urn was a bit more important that I first thought. I soon found out that it was actually my uncle’s mother’s ashes in the urn, not dust, and that my aunty was under the belief that my cousin had knocked the urn off the shelf during a party he’d had on the weekend.
I could never admit to sucking her mother-in-law into the vacuum. I still feel awful not telling the truth. And my poor cousin gets it every time they have a fight.
