Mop and bucket

I washed my kitchen floor this morning - you're right to be surprised, it doesn't happen that often. I got that weird feeling that you get when you've done something worthwhile and you can see the benefits. I even stood admiring it for a few minutes, inhaling the lemon zestiness from the Flash I had swabbed all over my laminated area, leaning on the mop in a weary fashion.

Cut to ten minutes later, the smell of lemons still in the air and an off-school Mac charged in from the garden bringing with him excess snow on his feet which instantly turned into water. I sighed and reached for the mop to wipe up the drops. I didn't castigate him (but I did castigate the stupid school that couldn't quite work out that snow + cold weather = turn the heating up a bit).

For lunch I made a quick "soup" of left over vegetables which smelt heavenly even if it looked a bit, erm, odd. Still, Mac was quite happy to eat copious amounts of it and, with about six spoonfuls left, asked for some more. I was so delighted that he was actively requesting vegetables that I hastened to fill his bowl and dribbled the best part of a bowlful onto the table and therefore onto the floor. Cue Senior Dog (he gets first dibs on all leftovers/table to floor mishaps) who gobbled up the hot soup and went off panting. Out came the mop again to get rid of the vegetable smears.

More garden frolics for my son (we have a range of varying snow creatures) and the return of snowy feet, this time accompanied by a little "snow hedgehog mummy" that took great exception to being brought into the warm and promptly melted all over my poor beleagured kitchen floor.

More mopping, but was getting bored of it all by then.

Imagine my horror, nay disgust, when the soup that Senior Dog gobbled made a reappearance on the (yes, you've got it) kitchen floor, right by the fridge. More hot Flash-y water and the fifth appearance of the day from my mop. It's never been so well used in its life.

David arrived home from work just after six, moaning about cancelled trains, slippery platforms and the fact that his shoes are "sodden". He left them to get even more sodden - I don't even have to tell you do I? - on the kitchen floor, ironically right beside the mop and bucket. I swear I heard the cleaning implements groan as I approached.

I was planning on giving the loo and bathroom a good old clean tomorrow (using my steam cleaner that Amelia bought me for Christmas "to help you with the housework dear") but I'm a bit worried what I'll invoke!