Juanita is Fired

I'm firing the housekeeper. I was completely fine with her lackluster cleaning capabilities. I liked that I came home to a house that smelled like lemon and at least appeared to be clean. Although I've noticed that as time has gone on the house smells less and less lemony each time. Tonight I arrived to find litter on the floor, old coffee stains on the counter, and hairs in the bathroom. Nasty right? 
I was so ready to swoon into faux lemon oblivion when in actuality I was running around like a psycho with antibacterial wipes in one hand and a broom in the other. 
Poor Paul (I feel like "poor paul" has become a regularity as of late) was huddled in the corner while I, for lack of a better scapegoat, threw dinnerware (that was left in the sink) at his head. Perhaps it was because he suggested I need a nap. 
Damn right I need a nap. 
Having the weight of another's future resting on my shoulders kept me up from 3-5am reading Fifty Shades of Grey. For future, erotic novels are not bedtime stories.