Swiff, swiff.

There's something you should know about me. I hate mopping.

I have no problem with cleaning the floors we walk on, but I prefer to vacuum. My beautiful little Royal named Gertie III does a wonderful job on my place. I find a sense of zen in my heart when I push that machine back and forth over the carpet. I adore the sucking sound (insert joke here) and relish the chance to use the hose on hard-to-reach corners (insert other similar joke here).

I lived in a co-op for 3 years of college (keep in mind that it was Austin, TX, okay?!). We all had to do labor on the house, and my job was to vacuum all 6 floors. I loved it. I had a system that made it all seem so effortless. While I was vacuuming, I would reason out some life issues I was having or relive a special tender moment. I would stop and chat with friends who had their doors open. I accepted payment to vacuum people's rooms, and even vacuumed boyfriend's apartments without them asking me to. And my parents thought it was so hilarious that they bought me a tee shirt that says "Vacuums suck."

In my late teens and early twenties, I became known as the Vacuum Goddess, and I consider that a compliment.

In fact, I love carpet too. Berber in particular, but any clean rug will do. Once, my roommate was in the bathroom and our bathroom cabinet fell on the sink, which in turn fell on her foot. She wandered into our room, bewildered and spurting blood all over, and the first thing out of my mouth (according to her) was "Don't bleed on the carpet."

Hence, you will not be surprised to hear me say that I am not particularly fond of tile. I understand its necessity in bathrooms, kitchens, or entry halls, but it's not my favorite floor covering. I love the look of wood flooring and admire the strong, sexy men that lay it down for all to walk upon, but my heart lies with carpet. I blame my mom, who loves carpet so much she covered portions of our kitchen walls with it and ended up in the Sears catalog. It just looked that cool.

I just realized that I've written "carpet" so much in this blog that it will end up on search results for everyone requesting Lesbian websites on Google today.

It worked out that half my apartment is tile. A beautiful tile, mind you, but tile nonetheless. It is large, heavy Italian ceramic, mostly grey in color, with flecks of tan, peach, and cream in it. Very classy. But it also hides dirt. As a result, I vacuum it and clean up spills, but I have never actually mopped it.

I hate mopping because a mop is never clean again after you take one swipe on the floor. So, in my head, I am straining my lower back and sweating just to push a bacteria-and-dirt-infested sponge around on the ground. That is total bullshit. I would rather get on my hands and knees (this joke is too easy...don't you have ANY pride?) and use paper towels to make sure the floor is actually dirt-free.

I was at the grocery store in the lightbulb aisle, which further down turned into the cleanser aisle. It was there that I stumbled upon the Swiffer. I figured that the Swiffer is the mop-version of me getting on my hands and knees with paper towels, so I bought it. The dry ones attract dust and lint, and the wet ones clean the floor. Genius. It's everything I always wanted.

Today, with all my new free time, I pulled stuff out of my closets and created a pile for shit I have to sell on ebay. I cleaned the counters and under the couch, did mounds of laundry, and even had time to have some personal time. But then it was time to get down to business.

I had to use the Swiffer.

I vacuumed the floors, then I used the dry towel. It did a great job of picking up some lint that the vacuum (gasp!) missed. Then, I pulled out the wet version. It got the minor spots of questionable material off the floor, and shined everything up quite nicely. I was conservative in my use of the wet towels, but didn't hesistate to change if things were looking really dirty.

The thing that is pleasing me the most right now is the light, fresh smell left behind. My apartment has never known this fruity scent...and it suits the apartment, I must say. I am breathing deeply and loving life.

During my cleaning session, I remembered that I have heard horror stories about Swiffers breaking mid-clean. I can totally see that happening--the handle is thin and comes apart pretty easily. I was worried that it would snap and ruin my momentum...but nothing like that occurred. This was truly a blessed cleaning day.

I am sitting close to the tile right now. It is twinkling in the low, sexy light of my place. The breeze is drifting in the windows and out the front door, and the smell of mashed potatoes and garlic is calling my name. Yes, the old apartment is a lovely place to be tonight.

Come to think of it, this Swiffer stuff smells like success. Or...freedom. Or at least Change. And that's what the HellCat needs right now.

swifferific. g