I was over at my parents' house the other day, and, as almost never happens, Betty and I were both sitting at the computer. I was searching for this very cool wallpaper that she'd seen in the Post and wanted to know more about.
So while we were sitting there, Betty asked what was new on my blog. And she read my post about the fleeting thought of having a random naked man from Craigslist come over and clean my apartment.
Who, she wanted to know, is this man?
"Some man wants to just take off his clothes and clean apartments?"
"That's what it seems like."
"Why? Why would he want to do that?"
I said I assumed it was some kind of sexual fantasy. He'd have to be getting off somehow.
This really upset her. "You mean, he might be turned on by this?"
I shrugged. "I assume."
"Honey! Oh, no! You don't want some strange man erecting all over your apartment!"
It is true. I do not want a strange man erecting anywhere in my apartment. I'm not about to do this. Ever. It was just a very, very brief thought. Because my brain is wired to enjoy the weird.
Betty gave it a little thought. "Would he come over with his clothes on? Or would he come over already naked?"
I had to imagine that he'd be fully clothed in public. Or else he'd get arrested on the way.
We turned back to the wallpaper site. I was clicking through, enjoying the patterns. I'd already forgotten Mr. Clean Naked. Until Betty spoke.
Let me remind you that Betty is incredibly kind and polite. And often shocked by much of the stuff I come up with.
"How much would you tip him? I mean, it would only be fair to tip that naked man. Don't you think? Since you're not paying him to clean your apartment in the first place, I mean."