Janet and I are improving our communication skills. Today she asked if I wanted someone to help in the garden. No, me gustan el trababjo. She doesn’t understand how I prefer to melt into a hot dripping mass of mud, toting buckets of heavy gravel, when I could pay to have it done. She doesn’t understand why I pay her to do something as relatively easy as cleaning bath tile and mopping floors. Quite frankly, I don’t understand this either. Rusty and I remarked this morning that after Janet’s initial cleaning of our floors, we could get by using Janet just once a month. But in this culture, if I’ve hired her weekly, she expects weekly . . . and there’s just no getting around it.