Mopping

I swear I'm not making this up.  I got home a little bit ago to find Maria holding half a mop.  It seems she mopped so hard today, the mop's body snapped in half.  Remember now...she's the same gal that mopped so hard in the boys bathroom, she fell down.  Damn.  I don't even know what to think about this.  Armed with a mop, she is a menace.  A danger to herself and others.  Mopping with a deadly weapon.  Orange cones: Caution/ Cuidado:  Senora mopping.

If you could see her, you'd swear I was lying.  She is skinny and medium height but give her a mop, and she becomes a deadly weapon, a cleaning hazard waiting to happen.  She can tear up brooms, too, but then today's brooms are worthless anyway, but a mop?  That's a skill set I'm not sure what to do with exactly.

Sidebar.  Back to brooms for a second....Where are the blind guys that used to come door to door selling light bulbs and brooms....and the Fuller Brush man?  Remember him?  I loved those guys and they always had great cleaning utensils.  I guess Walmart put those guys out of bidness' and not for the better I might add. 

On my run to Tom Thumb to get a replacement mop, I ran into a old friend from my Belclaire days.  He lived in the block before ours and is still a good friend of my brothers to this day.  When he rounded the check out line, I stuck my mop between my legs (a la broom) and started riding, pretending like the wind was blowing. 

When you've known someone since childhood, I figure you can get away with anything. After I paid, I did the majorette deal with it, as I marched out of the store and I still had a "jumpin' the mop", a " mop dance partner", and a limbo left in my arsenal.

                                                                    

No wonder no one will go to the store with me anymore.  They are just no fun.