This is my housekeeper, R. She visits ever other Thursday (used to be every Thursday, but you know, layoffs trickle down the economic chutes). I sit at the kitchen table, backpack packed and ready to depart. When I see the above; the digging for keys, I know it's time to shut down the radio, pack the computer, and grab my keys.
I open the front door, say hello, and slink out the back door.
Two hours later, I return and, viola! Magic cleaning fairy smell. MCF.
Here's what happens at the coffeeshop:
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