on my hands and knees

I never think that mopping gets the floors all that clean, so every once in a while I hand scrub them. Artesian hand-scrubbed tile. Which is completely ridiculous. All this artesian hand-scrubbing of floors makes me edgy, I’m told. For instance, when I see someone carelessly dribbling lemonade on the floor from an overfilled glass, or tracking mud onto the floor I want to scream, “didn’t you see me on my hands and knees, scrubbing those tile floors for hours? Do you think I earned a college degree so that your inconsiderate self could completely obliterate my hard work?” Ok, so I probably have screamed that on occasion, because the cleaning of baseboards, grout, and tile is back-breaking work. And after a long day, the floor scrubber needs a drink. Or twelve. So screaming from your semi-bilingual floor scrubber is to be tolerated and really, expected. Because I am quite certain if you rang up Merry Maids to get a quote on how much to hand scrub (not even by an apprenticed floor scrubber) several hundred square feet, I am quite certain you would be told to go to hell.

As sparkly clean as my floors are, apparently my mind-set afterwards is not so great. So my considerate husband bought me a floor cleaner. It was highly rated on Amazon and my mom said it rocks too. But apparently Laith decided that if he was going to buy a floor cleaner, then he would go a step further and get the model that also cleans carpets. Dum, dum, dum. Which makes sense. I’m just glad he didn’t go two steps further and get one with a floor waxer. Actually, he should be glad he didn’t buy an appliance that waxes dirty surfaces.

I like to think that my house is pretty clean. It can get cluttery. And glittery. And hot-gluey. But that is how Mommy ticks, so we all accept it. My point being, we are not filthy people. Yes, we have a bathroom that is mainly used for pooping. But that is just good sense. I am secure in my housekeeping skills. Not too stringent, not too filthy, just right- and with the lingering scent of Fabuloso. Until the carpet cleaner.

Cleaning the carpet is a big process. First the vacuum is blocked up from Christmas tree pine needles. And the boy spawn has recently used it in his den of filth. So it is completely inoperable. After 48 minutes, modifications to a wire hanger to create a jabbing tool, and lots of creative curse words later, our Dyson has borne us a new pet:

she has my eyes, and my husband's hair

After clearing our cute new pet up, and emailing her photo to Amy Sedaris for inclusion into her next craft book (they can be like Cabbage Patch Kids!) I got to the carpet-cleaning section of our program. I had some serious mixed feelings. Partly proud that I undertook such a big task. Partly ashamed that my carpet was that filthy.  And partly elated that I made such a difference in our lives! And equal parts relieved/surprised that I did not find a tooth when I dumped the carpet cleaning water.

even dirtier in person

So my artesian hand mopping floor days are behind me. Thank goodness. Now I have more time to patent and market my vaccuum cleaner animals. Based on the collections from my craft room, I am creating a glittery line.