Winner Of The Mop Contest

I’ve never Googled this: my fear of washing floors, the surface

wet and a dirty mop and sponge, I can’t tread anywhere, can’t

get out and where to go with the dirty washing water - - having

washed myself into a corner I can’t take the bucket out & clean

the new mop-sponge contraption my beloved bought, watching

it jealously - and tonight I discovered the sponge must stay wet

 

At all times, never to dry out, and yet he leaves the poor sponge

mop outside to dry: this is a travesty - a misdemeanour against

all spongedom in housekeeping lore, I have to  teach him not to

maltreat the precious little mop-sponge that cleaned the kitchen

floor tonight, but I don’t understand mopdom; the floor’s still wet

after my attempt to wipe up excess water with the little mop so

 

I use a cloth; I shall clean the little mop then leave it damp in the

container outside and explain to him the floor was so dirty after

my washing up, I just had to clean a little bit with his trusty little

mop and thus discovered it must be kept damp at all times and 

I hope the little mop and I can become good friends...

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Winner Of The Mop Contest

I continued my victory over my phobia of washing floors,

tackled the patio this morning using a normal mop, it’s a

huge success, the little sponge-mop’s not efficient though

my beloved thinks it is, I like the little one as a friend - but

 

The real job has to be done with the big mop whose strings

can freely swing when I lift it from the floor - - the little mop

left many squeeze marks so the kitchen doesn’t look good,

this morning my beloved’s cleaning the kitchen again so as

 

To remove the sponge marks he sees - yet when he called

me the sponge left marks again, now he’s going for a third

sponge mop round and I wish him luck - - luckily my patio

looks great; now the big string mop which can also serve

 

As a wig for a scarecrow, is the winner of the mop contest! 

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Endless Cleaning

Having a routine is one of the most comforting things - 

clean floors requires a routine of washing every day, 

soon I will be living as my housekeeper did, wielding

a mop every time I saw her, she was always chasing

us from room to room with a broom - and following

up with a bucket of water and mop, then the broom

 

Became a warning sign set up across the entrance to

the room she had recently washed; now I understand

the rationale for her strict regime - and feel fearful of

messing up my clean floors - shuddering to think that

the eternal dust from the air field across the road will

have me sweeping and mopping again tomorrow, we

 

Shall have to make our peace with living in dust as this

endless cleaning is going to drive us insane, and loose

carpets suddenly seem the best thing after ice cream…