notesfromthetrenchesIII

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Friday, October 22, 2004

To Wash A Floor

You would think that with several college degrees between us and being above average in the handiness department, or so we like to think, that installing a new mop head onto the mop would be no big deal. In fact, you would think that using the word "install" would be a bit of an exaggeration. Most people simply "put" the new one on.

But no, not us. We wrestled with the mop and the sponge head for almost an hour. We took turns trying to get the thing on, because it looks so easy to do when the other person is struggling with it.

I even dug the wrapper the sponge head came in out of the garbage to read the instructions. Who knew that instructions would even be needed for such a simple task. I wiped it off and we huddled over it on table, trying to figure out what we could possibly be doing wrong. According to the 3-step instructions and diagram, we were doing exactly what we should be, yet it still would not slide into place.

After about 30 minutes I gave up on the mop. The amount of time it had already taken had far exceeded my interest in having a clean kitchen floor. The floor is so ugly anyway that having it clean does little to improve the way it looks.

But not so for my husband. He was a man on a mission to have a clean kitchen floor. And finally, after an hour of pinched fingers and intermittent swearing... success.

And as he began mopping the floor I sat down to watch him holding my baby daughter. And I said to her, 'Take notes. When it comes time for you to get married make sure you get one who will do housework.'

And without missing a beat, Rob spoke up, 'And make sure that he has a much lower threshold for dirt than you do, so that when faced with the choice of having heart palpitations or mopping, he will chose to mop your floor.'

And because I can't stand to not have the last word I said, 'And, baby girl, if your husband ever makes such an egregious error as calling it your floor, when you are 8 months pregnant and exhausted from schlepping his children around all day, it would be grounds for justifiable homicide.'




2 Comments:

Blogger Ash-bray Etty-hay said...

bwah! Mine has (as you can guess) a much much much lower threshold for dirt, but would rather complain and palpitate than mop. ;)

OTOH, I didn't even know my dad knew how to make a bed until I was in college, so I did marry up, kind of.

8:15 PM  
Blogger Jodi said...

I think my DH has a non existant threshhold for dirt. Your story was ROFLOL! We have had to sheepishly fish the discarded directions for something out of the trash at times. BTW you've been asked about a few times on SHS are you taking a break from email for awhile?

7:00 PM  

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