Freshly Mopped Floors…Who Needs Them?

I’ve never been much for mopping floors.  I vacuum, and I sweep.  I even pass the dry mop fairly often, but I hate the wet mop.  Just recently, I realized why…

I had spent the day cleaning the house.  I had vacuumed everywhere and decided to take it one step further and mop all the floors – must have been in a spring cleaning state of mind.  So I mopped the bathrooms, the wood floors, the stairs, the hallway, and the kitchen.  By the time Rudy came home from work, everything was sparkling clean.  The kids were safely closed up downstairs playing, so no one had brought in sand or dirt or grass. 

I started fixing supper, and then it happened.  As I reached for the bottle of olive oil at the back of the pantry, I knocked down a brand new, glass jar of mayonnaise.  ACK!  It fell to the floor with a thud, and its base shattered.  Mayonnaise-smeared shards of glass flew all over the freshly mopped floor from the front of the refrigerator to the hallway.

“This is why I hate mopping floors!” I screeched.  “Every time I mop, something falls on the floor to get it dirty again!  Last time it was a glass of milk.  And the time before that it was orange juice!”

“It’s ok, Honey,” Rudy assured me.  “We’ll clean it up.”

He cleaned up what he could with the broom.  I scooped up the major part of the mayonnaise and glass mixture with a spoon and dumped it all into the trash can.  Then I wiped the rest with paper towels.

“That will do for now,” I said.  “I have to get supper on the table.  I’ll mop the floor again tonight.”

Twenty minutes later, the kids came up for supper.

“Mom, the floor’s all slippery here,” Sabrina said as she walked past the pantry.  “Did you drop something?”

“She dropped a jar of mayo,” Rudy said, chuckling.  I glared at him.

“You should mop that up, Mom, it’s really slippery.”

I ignored her, afraid of what might happen if I opened my mouth to answer, and finished dishing out the food.

After supper I mopped the floor again.  There, good as new. 

The next afternoon, I noticed some muddy footprints on the floor at the front entrance.  Who made these? I tried to think of who had been outside that day.  I just mopped the floor yesterday! I can’t deal with this now!  The mud bothered me, but I was too busy to clean up.  I had a cake to bake and stuff to prepare for Vanessa’s  birthday party, which we were hosting the next day at lunch.

When Rudy came home from running errands, he said, “Honey, there are muddy footprints on the floor here.  We should mop that up.”

“I saw them, but I don’t have time to deal with that now.”

He must have cleaned up, because later when I passed there, the footprints were gone.

So the day of the party, the floors were all clean and still looked freshly mopped – amazing in a house with five pairs of feet and four cat paws moving about!

Rudy helped tidy up the kitchen by clearing off the dish rack.  Somehow, one of the Corning Ware saucepans slid off the rack and crashed to the floor.  Okay, not so bad this time.  We just needed a broom to clean up.

Our guests arrived, and we got through the appetizers and main course without any mishaps – well I did burn the sausage wraps a bit, but nothing fell on the floor.  Then I got up to prepare the pot of coffee to serve with the cake.  As I grabbed the can of freshly ground coffee, it slipped out of my hands and hit the floor – the one right in front of the pantry that had been mopped clean twice.  The lid popped off and coffee grinds flew everywhere.

For the entertainment and delight of my guests, I cleaned the floor again.  Helpful comments from my brother and dad like “Just scoop it back into the can.  The floor’s clean anyway!” and “So what if there’s a bit of cat hair in the coffee.  It’ll give it more flavor.” kept me in a wonderful mood.

Again, all we needed was a broom to clean it up – I won’t mention the grinds that are still stuck in the groove between the floor and my pantry.  However, I’m convinced that if I hadn’t mopped the floor, these mishaps wouldn’t have occurred.  Freshly mopped floors are just magnets for messes, and who needs them? 

I think maybe I should leave the floor cleaning duties to my cat.  His fluffy tail looks a whole lot like a duster anyway.

Lucie Bouchard Antoniazzi works from home as a freelance writer, editor, and web designer while also pursuing a part-time career in engineering. She lives with her husband Rudy, and their three children, Sabrina, Vanessa, and Nicholas, in Laval, Quebec, Canada.

Find out more about Lucie and her work by visiting her web site at www.luciebouchardantoniazzi.com.