Clean Floor
To me, the house isn’t clean until the floor is clean. (On the other hand, all you have to do when company is coming is vacuum and you’re ready to entertain.)
I have long been the one who mops and scrubs the hardwood and tile in our house; I don’t mind doing it and often, I take great satisfaction because the results are so apparent. Few things are more satisfying to me than surveying a glistening floor that beforehand, was riddled with footprints and blotches.
Over the years, I’ve tried a number of different techniques and methods; I’ve invested in a variety of alleged labor-saving devices, including, recently, the renowned “Sh-Mop,” whose inventor claims that it’s the absolute last word in floor cleaning, a claim that’s true only if that word is “sucks.”
Ultimately, it’s been my experience that the only way to truly get the floor clean is the old way: bucket and sponge, on your knees. While this is far from the most efficient method, it’s clearly the most effective. Plus, it has the added benefit of making you feel particularly worthy, like some sort of Scandinavian fraulein in pigtails and a burlap jumper doing the bidding of the evil giant who has imprisoned you far from the fjords and wheat fields of your youth.
But I say too much, far too much.
Having a dog makes it difficult to be truly particular about the cleanliness beneath one’s feet. Our dog, Becca, rejoices in imprinting paw prints all over the kitchen and living room. I’ve learned not to chase her around with a wet sponge in hand; it’s too confusing for her and too disillusioning for me.
Last week, we had two dogs in the house and the yard outside was a virtual mud bog. I ended up pretending I was living in a log cabin with a dirt floor. Not quite as thrilling as a Scandinavian fraulein, but at least it got me through.
I have long been the one who mops and scrubs the hardwood and tile in our house; I don’t mind doing it and often, I take great satisfaction because the results are so apparent. Few things are more satisfying to me than surveying a glistening floor that beforehand, was riddled with footprints and blotches.
Over the years, I’ve tried a number of different techniques and methods; I’ve invested in a variety of alleged labor-saving devices, including, recently, the renowned “Sh-Mop,” whose inventor claims that it’s the absolute last word in floor cleaning, a claim that’s true only if that word is “sucks.”
Ultimately, it’s been my experience that the only way to truly get the floor clean is the old way: bucket and sponge, on your knees. While this is far from the most efficient method, it’s clearly the most effective. Plus, it has the added benefit of making you feel particularly worthy, like some sort of Scandinavian fraulein in pigtails and a burlap jumper doing the bidding of the evil giant who has imprisoned you far from the fjords and wheat fields of your youth.
But I say too much, far too much.
Having a dog makes it difficult to be truly particular about the cleanliness beneath one’s feet. Our dog, Becca, rejoices in imprinting paw prints all over the kitchen and living room. I’ve learned not to chase her around with a wet sponge in hand; it’s too confusing for her and too disillusioning for me.
Last week, we had two dogs in the house and the yard outside was a virtual mud bog. I ended up pretending I was living in a log cabin with a dirt floor. Not quite as thrilling as a Scandinavian fraulein, but at least it got me through.
posted by Professor Dave at 4:20 PM
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