Shame, Resolutions, And My New Fiance

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Lana visited me at home. 

"Oh, NO no no no" she said, (or words similar to that effect) "I cannot possibly visit you under these conditions!" (Okay, so that’s not entirely accurate; what she actually said was "You cannot possibly work well under these conditions!" but I knew what she meant.)

And then she spent an hour with me, helping me to clean my house.



Artist's Impression of Lana Visiting Me At Home

I felt ashamed. Not so ashamed that I tried to stop her, but ashamed.

Sadly, though, this was not the first time this has happened to me. Earlier this month my friend Jodie visited, and she helped to clean my house, too. Either I tend to befriend people who have serious house cleaning fetishes, or I am desperately in need of help. 

When Jodie cleaned, I felt grateful. When Lana cleaned, I also felt grateful (I mean, who the hell doesn't feel grateful when someone cleans your house?) but it also shook me up. It was time for some serious change.

Artist's Impression of Jodie Visiting Me At Home

I decided to keep the house clean at all times, and to do this, I enlisted my kids' help. The six year old promised to put away her own toys and plates. The 12 year old promised to stack and unload the dishwasher. 

And the 14 year old promised to deliver me a cappuccino in bed every Saturday if I kept the house clean during the week.

I agreed.

I have now got into the groove of tidying the house. But everyone finds one household chore particularly horrific and for me it is mopping. I hate it with a passion. I hate the bucket and the water, the wet floor and the streaks.

And as I was reflecting on this one day, I was sent a mop.

Now, generally I don’t do sponsored posts. You know that. But this mop is goooood. I love it and I think I am actually going to marry it. It is from Dettol and it uses these disposable wipey things that attach to the end of it. You don’t need water and you don’t need sponges and when you’ve finished you just throw out the wipes and you’re done. 

And it’s light. It’s light enough that my five year old can use it. Which she DID. Seriously. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. And then my 12 year old took the stick part and used it as a baton. Not very well, mind you, but I didn’t care, because MY SIX YEAR OLD MOPPED THE FLOOR.

Oh, and apparently the wipes disinfect the floor, which is great and all, but did I mention MY SIX YEAR OLD MOPPED THE FLOOR?

Hello, Sexy New Mop-Man

So try the Dettol mop. It is excellent. And now I am going to go into a corner of my (very clean) house and weep because this is what my life has become. I have fallen in love with a mop. And have decided to marry it.

But hey, the kids love my new fiance, so really, what more could I ask for?

This post was brought to you by my new fiancé, the Dettol mop.