Day 19: Enter the Hans
Waffles are a wonderful way to start the day. Four simultaneous phone calls aren’t. But, phone calls are potential gigs, so I guess they’re not all bad.
With such a flurry of activity this early in the day, I knew life wasn’t going to become any less hectic. The household needed a maid, simply to ensure Claudia didn’t suffer some kind of filth-related psychotic episode. Of course, there was always the option of forcing the Sims to clean up after themselves, but I felt that was interfering too much in the day-to-day. I was the guiding hand of fate, not their mothers. They were all old enough to know where their dirty clothes go. And so, with that sentiment fresh upon my mind, a quick call to the maid depot was phoned in, and the next day, this gentleman arrived.
Like Josephine, I’m not too sure what his actual name is. Hans just felt right, complete with the accent and fabulousness that would accompany a man who wore his shirt open down to the third button while taking out the trash. Almost immediately, I knew Hans was a winner, not just at being a maid, but at life. Truly. In the first hour, he had picked up all of the dishes, scrubbed the countertops, and was working on mopping up a puddle in front of the shower. After that was complete, Hans took a little time for Hans. I applaud that. This is a man who not only knows where his priorities lie, but he’s also a man who will follow those priorities no matter the situation. For example, during the middle of his shift, Hans sat down and began to drink a juice box. I’m definitely not paying him to take a break and drink a juice box, but damn it, he earned my respect with such an action. I salute you Hans. Besides, if he can keep the house relatively clean, I’ll make sure his favorite juices are stocked to the best of my ability. It’s the least I can do.
While Hans was setting the standard for male maids everywhere, MML was doing what it does best, getting their music on. Well, most of them. Robi was once again working on 50 Shades of Baphomet. As a writer, I can’t blame him, but I never would have pegged Robi Duboise as such a serious author. Well, I guess writing a trashy romance novel doesn’t necessarily qualify him as a serious author, but don’t let him hear you say that. Really, don’t. He’ll tear your face off.
By now, each member was receiving a gig every day, leading to a string of shows that comprised the Bridgeport Dive Bar circuit (which was actually just three bars, but at least the venues were changing). The first show was nothing different from any of the others they had played. Noon, on a Wednesday, in a nearly empty bar. They still played their hearts out, and were rocking out as hard as they could. However, just after the halfway point of the show, someone new arrived, with an explicit interest in Masochistic Murder Llama.
People were showing up just for us, instead of happening to go to the bar and catch our show. At one point, the woman in the red blouse literally sprinted into the bar, got up on stage, and stared at Claudia for the remainder of the gig. Creepy? Yes, a bit, but it’s nice to have devoted fans. Fans that you’ll know would either take a bullet for you, or be the one behind the trigger. The entire gig was a small step forward, but a step none the less. And the band definitely felt good about it, ordering a round of liquid explosives after the show.
The evening wasn’t all good, however. Upon returning home a few hours later, we discovered this…
It was 10 pm at this point, and everyone was starting to grow tired. Luckily, the Sim Universe employs a system of 24/7 availability for all of its service requests, and a plumber was there within the hour, tinkering away at the shower while the rest of us slept. Clogged showers notwithstanding, it was an enjoyable day, full of new friends, wonderful German men, and delicious recognition for the band. Life was good.