Narrative essay on the topic"My life on a typical Saturday as a house help"
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A typical Sunday morning at my house is a little less sleep and a lot more work. It 's early when my eyes open. The first thing she tells me is, “Mija, I want you to go to the kitchen as soon as you get your clothes on.” Not even a “Good Morning.” The market’s over at the Redlands and there 's a lot of traffic at that time. It usually takes me a bit to get up. There 's a whole routine to it; she 'd yell at me so I 'm up, make me take a shower, and have me go feed and take out the dogs. I don 't even know why we have five, our house barely fits two. Nonetheless, I love them all. I 'd be totally fine doing this if I actually woke up by myself. With enough force, I push back the quilt and lug myself out of bed. My feet make contact with the cold tile floor and I march toward the small bathroom. The sound of Elvis Crespo’s voice and the vacuum blare from the living room make up a classic Hispanic home setting. Typical during the weekends. I pushed past the door, flipped on the shower, and the cold water