“Thank you very much for alerting me to this matter,” the clown responded thoughtfully to Mrs. Friedman. “Leave it to me. I’ll see to it that Mr. Krankowitz’s house is clean for Pesach”
“N
ot like that! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you 20 times! You’re ruining the carpet!”
Mrs. Friedman from next door sighed to herself. It seemed Mr. Krankowitz’s latest cleaner wasn’t working out any better than any of the others before her. Mrs. Friedman reckoned it was only a matter of time before Mr. Krankowitz sent this one packing as well. Usually, after that happened, a new cleaner would be sent around by the city after a few weeks — until the old man got fed up and the whole cycle started all over again.
But now Pesach was coming up. If this latest cleaner bit the dust, who would help Mr. Krankowitz with his Pesach cleaning? Indeed, half an hour later Mrs. Friedman heard the old man yell, “Go away and don’t come back again!”
Mrs. Friedman toyed with the idea of asking her own cleaner to help out Mr. Krankowitz, but she dismissed it immediately. Florentina was so sensitive that even a look of disapproval could send her into a tizzy, and Mrs. Friedman had to handle her with the greatest sensitivity. There was no way she could send her to the old man’s house; Florentina probably wouldn’t last two minutes, and she would never forgive Mrs. Friedman either.
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