Sheltering in Place – Day 45

Today I decided to wash my kitchen floor. I was tired of looking at it and hoping it could go until we have the ladies back to clean.  Throwing down a wet paper towel on a coffee stain and rubbing your foot back and forth on the floor only gets you so far. And then there was the odd Cheerio that would crunch under my foot as I traversed the kitchen. The final blow came when Ellie, the cat, threatened to call the SPCA to report her living conditions. I had to face it. It was time to wash the kitchen floor.

It did not go well. Initially, I couldn’t find the mop. And when I did find it buried in the back of the laundry room, I couldn’t find any cleaning liquid. I was desperate. Then I got the bright idea — and you may find this hard to believe — of using warm soapy water. Wait! Hear me out first before you judge me harshly. Because this approach actually seemed to work. True, I didn’t use Formula 409 nor M’Lady’s Miracle Floor Cleansing Balm but just plain, old-fashioned soap and warm h2o. A scientific breakthrough!

Well! Those spots just came right up. So did the dirt. Of course, rinsing out a dirty mop and getting it clean again presented another problem. I couldn’t find the bucket. Didn’t I use that for a birdbath once?  So being from pioneer stock, I used the kitchen sink. Naturally,  I had to scrub it within an inch of my life to get it clean again afterward. But that wasn’t the real problem. The sink is so danged high. it was awkward. I kept banging the end of the long mop handle into the stove, the fridge, the hubby. He happened to be standing nearby when I yanked the handle back to wring it out. I got him right in the solar plexus. Once I learned he hadn’t passed out, I went back to the job at hand.

I don’t like to brag, but my kitchen floor looks sensational. And hubby only has a slight bruising of a rib or two. I may actually do this again. Sometime around August.


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