I know that I wrote about cleaning last week, but this week is less of an entreaty to share domestic duties and more of an encouragement to simply mop your floor.
In our last apartment, James and I were enthusiastic floor moppers. The vast expanses of hardwoods in our Providence apartment were sloping and pitted and had us mildly concerned that we might soon fall into our downstairs neighbors' laps during dinner. But they were clean. Or rather, they weren't clean and so we cleaned them. Constantly. I think that we thought that if we just mopped one more time, the faint odor of cat urine would finally dissipate. Forever optimistic.
Here in Brooklyn, there's no cat odor. That combined with the fact that we store our mop in our padlocked hall closet means that our impulse to mop has withered considerably.
But with the arrival of warmer weather and bare feet, you begin to notice things. First you remember that living in New York and daring to walk the streets in anything but high-top converse sneakers means that you need to scrub your feet upon returning home. Then you realize after scrubbing your bare feet that they rapidly become dirty again. And its because of your floor.
We generally remove our shoes upon coming into our apartment, but there are those moments when I'm all ready to head out the door and I remember with horror that I haven't brushed my teeth. Lord knows I'm not going to unlace those high-tops for just one quick trip to the bathroom...and so it begins.
This weekend we mopped*. More precisely, we began to mop and then abandoned the mop for some old-fashioned scrubbing on our hands and knees. I'm not going to claim that whistled while we worked or anything, but the whole process only took about 20 minutes. More importantly, our floors are sparkling. So are the bottoms of our feet.
*If you're curious: we used a combo of warm water, peppermint essential oil and basic dish soap (we love Common Good). Someday, I want this.
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