Dear Sweep N’ Mop

Dear Sweep N’ Mop,

It’s been a long while, but now our relationship has come full circle and it’s time to bare my soul and tell you what you mean to me… 

I don’t know if you remember me, but we met in 2006. It was a precious moment I will always treasure, although, I suspect this might be but a mere flutter in your memoirs.

It was about 2am on a Tuesday night….
I was up late doing work on something that seemed very important but not so important that I could not watch television at the same time. Around 9pm, a rerun of Friends came on (the beach house episode when Chandler and Joey have to pee on Monica’s leg), which was soon followed by Frasier, then Law and Order, then the bad Law and Order, then old-but-good Law and Order, then something called Caroline in the City. It stars the mom from Back to the Future (I know – who knew, right?). Then it was past midnight and the infomercials took over. Chuck Norris was there selling exercise equipment. I don’t know if you remember that part. I ignored it because I think it’s unfair that the only people who get to wear jean shorts are Chuck Norris and rappers, but I left it on because I couldn’t find the channel changer. Just as I was ready to finish up on my laptop and muster the strength to manually turn off the TV, a shimmer of cleanliness and soap bubbles sparkled down the front of the screen, followed by a loud, offensively fake Australian accent;

Are you tired of bending over, sweeping and scrubbing your floors every day?

Are you exhausted by moping your kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, over and over again, trying to clean each and every surface?
 
Are you disgusted by dirty mop water, wondering if you will ever properly sanitize your floors?

[queue shimmer sparkles round two]

Introducing the Sweep n Mop! For the first time ever, we have combined the grabbing power of a broom with the cleansing power of a mop, all in one handy device.

[queue shimmer sparkles round three, photos of white women smiling]

And there you were, Sweep N’ Mop. You were there in all your periwinkle glory. Unlike any other mop, your sponge head was corrugated with ridges like the tummy of a blue whale, deep and cavernous, ready to embrace whatever obstacle of grime or grease in your path. A triumph! And unlike others, your sponge was not made of a common kitchen sponge but that of a cosmetics sponge – lush, thick and dense. Dirt stuck to you as if it wanted to be with you. It wanted to live inside of your ridges. You carried that dirt around until it was time for a quick dip and the sink, and there you were, ready for more. You were domestic engineering at it’s very best, Sweep N’ Mop. 

Obviously, I dialed immediately.

Two weeks later you were in my home, happily prancing between dirty floor and my kitchen sink. You were such an excellent dance partner, I started mopping the floors more often than ever before. What was once a weekly chore became a near-daily joy. That’s how good you were to me, Sweep N’ Mop. That’s how good.

One day the phone rang and I left your head face down in a bucket full of soapy water. Instead of wringing you out in a timely manner, I let you sit there for a good 12, possibly 14 minutes. Will you ever forgive me? You in your wonder of absorbency took on so much water that when I lifted you up, the sheer weight of the water ripped your head right off. Decapitated. Screaming. Chaos. Cursing. Duct tape. The horror. The horror!

Alas, your time had come.

Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus.
Translation: The hour finishes the day; the author finishes his work.

You had finished your work with me, oh my beloved Sweep N’ Mop. Finished.

I searched high and low to find you again. The TV, the internet, even that “As Seen on TV” store at the mall. When I asked the clerk if she knew of your acquaintance, she informed me you had been there for some time in previous months but, “We had to stop selling those because some child went and got himself impaled on the stick parts. You could try the Ebays.”

And I did. I tried the Ebays. The photograph looked like you but when it arrived all I found was an imposter. Not you, Sweep N’ Mop, but some hard sponged impersonator, incapable of your talent and skill. Clumsy. Vulgar. Crude.

For seven long years I wandered the wilderness without you, comparing all other mops to you, Sweep N’ Mop, my one true love. One time I found you on Youtube, displaying your talents on Turkish Television, offering a phone number I did not know how to dial. Oh Sweep N’ Mop, Why must you torment me so? Why? Why? WHY!

Manic with fever, I searched the internet again. I found your website. A website. A website! But you declared you were only for sale to those in countries like Yemen, Egypt, Sudan, and Libya. Why you would rather sweep sand and camel dung in Libya than cat hair in Chicago is beyond my comprehension, but I accepted this fact and respected your need for space. I mourned you in my heart. My grief. My sorrow.

While driving last weekend, a song came on the radio and I knew it was for me. For you. For us.

Stop me if you know this one.

Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you,
That is how I know you go on…

Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you’re here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

As I pulled into the Big Lots parking lot, I thought fondly of our time together and wished you well in your new life. I turned off the radio and walked right into the store, inhaling the scent of cool ranch Doritos and off-brand toothpaste.  Quickly I located my target – road salt— and while carrying the bag back to the register, I spotted something periwinkle. Something tall. Something… familiar.

Was it you? Was it you?

Could it be?

YES!!! HUZZAH!!!!! IT WAS YOU! No longer called Sweep N’  Mop, you had shed your cumbersome box and came wrapped in a thin membrane of cellophane instead. Your unmistakable sponge, soft yet-resilient, was the same as always. Priced at $6 I bought you. I bought six of you. And if there were more on the shelf, I would have bought those too. Then I drove 40 minutes to another Big Lots, and I bought three more. Then I went home, turned on the television to a late-night rerun of Friends, and I wrote you a letter.

Dear Sweep N’ Mop,

It’s been a long while, but now our relationship has come full circle and it’s time to bare my soul and tell you what you mean to me…