Memories are such weird and strange things, triggered by who knows what. So when you find one that is triggered by something you recognize it is a satisfying thing. My kitchen floor was grabbing at my feet as I walked over it this morning, that “too many spills” kind of thing. So I cleaned the kitchen and then got to washing the floor. Mind you, I wish I had a mop but not enough to drop things and go get one and the only time I wish I had one was when I would be using same....hence I never remember to purchase one. And there is one at the cabin so time will take care of the problem. Anyway, I filled a pan half full of warm water and then put in the Mr. Clean, and there was the memory click. My mother only used Mr. Clean if she had the choice and therefore that smell is strongly connected to my mother. I knelt down on the floor and started rubbing the orange cloth over the floor and rinsing it in the solution to continue on. Now I am done and it is drying and I am writing, but in order to dump the cleaning solution I would have to walk over the wet floor, not an option when there is a much easier way...wait for it to dry! For many years I was responsible for my mothers kitchen and dinning room floors, and they were always cleaned with Mr. Clean. As my life became more and more crazy and Nancy needed income I asked my mom if she could just hire Nancy to do the job and she was more than pleased to do that “if she will do a good job”. She had her care givers do the floors but they never got them truly clean (they used the wrong products!) and she wanted my word that Nancy would get them truly clean. I gave her my word and Nancy went to work. She did all the cleaning chores on the main floor of the house (remember, this is a three story house so that is relevant!). One day Nancy was frantically busy and my mother was complaining that the floors desperately needing cleaning and that if Nancy was not going to do it I was do get it done. And then Mom and Dad left for breakfast at the Clover Patch as normal. Nancy and I arrived at the house ready to take aim, but time was so short. I reverted back to something I did as a young person. I swept and Nancy vacuumed, then we poured about a quarter cup of Mr. Clean into the laundry tray and did not rinse it out. It is an extremely old laundry tub so it would not totally drain, and we carefully poured it so that it didn't. Mom got home a time later and effervesced to me at what a good job Nancy had done on the floors, she could not have been more pleased. Truth be told, my mother looked for the marks on the carpet that the vacuuming cleaner made and she smelled the air for the Mr. Clean, she never looked at the floors! Yes, in her day that was not true, but as she aged it became true and I used that fact occasionally and so did Nancy. We maintained personal integrity and did that “smoke and mirrors” routine only rarely, but it still makes me smile. So today I am typing and smiling as I inhale that tell-tale smell as I sit here at the computer. The carpet is so poor here that you can not see the tracks of the vacuuming cleaner so it is only a half memory, but a satisfying one all the same. It all reminds me that we need to keep our values straight. If cleaning the kitchen floor is more important than the people we need to take a good look at priorities. Yes, it is important to be clean, but people are way more important than floors and all. I joke frequently that I clean people out of my place and not into my place, and it is true. If you come to see me you should be here to see me and not check out my floors etc. I try not to let that be an excuse to live in filth, but it is still something that I strongly believe. I feel better when things are clean so I clean for me, not to impress others and for that I can smile at my messes, at my clean smell and at this memory.