An Ode to Cleaning

In an attempt to extend the productivity I was experiencing at school (yes, I was a super productive,  number one, grade A, tree-killing, grade-giving beast yesterday!), I came home last night and determined to clean house.  And by clean house, I mean, I wanted a full-on cleaning wherein, no surface of my main living quarters would go untouched by some sort of cleaning product that, by all intents and purposes could be deemed cancer-causing.

To borrow a phrase from a well-known movie of my day, I wanted my house to "shine like the dome of the Chrysler Building, or your backsides will."  Okay, the last part of that phrase has little to nothing to do with the idea behind why I write this ode, but I do love quoting Miss Hannigan, in part because I feel sort of like Miss Hannigan on a daily basis at school.

But I digress.

The entire point of this ode is to sing the praises of two very amazing, dare I say, revolutionizing products that I have begun a rather scandalous cleaning affair with....

The first ode is to Multi-Purpose Pledge, which, in its very nature, is the epitome of my laziness.  I can take this amazing spray, drench a dust rag in it's lemony goodness, and wipe down my entire house from stem to stern, crown molding to the last inch of hardwood flooring, and everything becomes immediately dust-free.

Okay, so perhaps there aren't stems nor sterns in my house ... I am so new to this whole home ownership thing.  I have lived in the house for just under 15 months, and just recently, I ventured to the attic, and that one occurrence was only to stick my head through the hole in the ceiling where one enters one's attic if one were brave enough to do so.  There were a lot of joists and buttresses as well as some old Christmas lights and a suitcase which may or may not hold the wealth and treasures I've dreamed of uncovering, but I'm not entirely sure there were sterns or stems.

Ah, but once again, I digress.

I swathed, nay, I bathed my entire house in the lovely Multi-Purpose Pledge ... tables, chairs, mantles, mirrors, televisions, and The Cat, had she sat still long enough to allow such an offense to occur.  Alas, she has lived with me long enough to anticipate such lapses in judgement.  She anticipates these manic cleaning sessions.  She can react in cat-like quickness, good too, considering she's, well, a cat.

That stuff ... Multi-Purpose Pledge ....  it is the SCHIZZ NITZ!

The final product to which I owe an ode, not to mention a debt of gratitude, is my Shark Steam mop, delivered to me, on Christmas Day, by Santa and Mrs. Claus.  They live in Michigan, by the way.  Did you know that?  It's true.  Santa and Mrs. Claus live in Michigan.

My Shark Steam mop makes short order of cleaning my floors, and I've got to tell you, I hate cleaning my floors.  Lest you underestimate my lack of commitment where my floors are concerned, let me just tell you that my floors get mopped once in a Blue Moon, or when a total eclipse of the sun or your heart occurs, which ever one comes first!  I know!  I live very closely to the way seven male college co-eds would live, complete with paper towel coffee filters, and somewhere in Michigan my mother is rolling her eyes, rubbing her furrowed brow and muttering annoyed, "I taught her better than this," but it's true.  I don't do floors.  So anything that makes that ugly job just a wee bit easier for me, and entertains me in the process, is worth it's weight in North Pole magic!  And this steaming baby is definitely worth it!

Today, when I woke up, unnaturally early, due in part to The Cat's insistence on playing (who plays at 5 a.m., really!?), my house sparkled and shone (or at least I think that's what those stars in my eyes were as I stumbled to the coffee maker), and there was a hint of lemon in the air (and not a hint of old, sweaty gym sock anywhere).

Yes, Multi-Purpose Pledge, Steam Shark, how I love thee .... let me count the ways ... let me sing your praises ... and bow to your glorious, beauty of housecleaning prowess ... you are my sun, my moon, my living, my dying ...

Me?  Melodramatic?  Ummm....


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