Fool Me Twice

We were dirty people. Even after the kids grew up and were no longer trailing their childhood detritus behind them and leaving handprints everywhere like fingerpainters run amok, we were dirty.

          We were gardening, cutting grass, dragging in wood, tramping through mud, and basically bringing the outdoors in, and not in a good way. When I picture the house we loved and left two years ago, the first image that springs to mind is the kitchen floor. Thanks to bad design, the kitchen door was closest to the driveway, making it by default the main entryway. To get to any part of the rest of the house, you had to cut through the kitchen, making it basically a hallway with a stove. That floor never felt clean to me.

          In CondoLand, we’ve been transformed. We’ve gone to the clean side. Without wood to chop, or grass clippings to drag in, my vacuuming days are few and far apart, as are my mopping days. One telltale sign is Mamie’s reaction to a rare sighting of the vacuum, shaking and following me from room to room, either to defend me, to be ready for any sudden moves from this arch enemy.

          Yesterday a closer look at the kitchen floor told me the time had come. I dragged out the orange monster and went to it. Mamie, as usual, followed me, staying near enough to make sure I wasn’t getting eaten, but far enough away that she didn’t fall victim.

          Tile makes up a good-sized portion of our place – front hall, living room, kitchen, dining area, back hall, bathrooms. For quick cleanings, I use a wet Swiffer, but It had been awhile, so out came a bucket and sponge mop.   

          Last year on a particularly warm, windy day I had opened the windows, kicked off my flip flops and mopped with enthusiasm. To wait for the floors to dry, I gathered up a drink and my latest book and headed for a cozy chair.

          Across the wet tile.

          In bare feet.

          Things really do happen in slow motion. You feel yourself going up and then down, and think 1) ‘What’s happening?’ and then, 2) ‘Oh! I’m falling!’ and then 3) *#@!?

          Fortunately I was fine, outside of a few bruises the next day.

          So yesterday, after telling my husband that under no circumstances was he to leave the porch, and after moving at the speed of a sloth on Valium myself, you guessed it.

          Wet floor, bare feet, boom.

          Not to worry, though, I’m fine.

          All of life is learning – for some people.