Kitchen Floor Therapy

The first time my kids saw me on my hands and knees, with a bucket next to me, wiping the floor.....they asked if someone had puked :). Now, they know to leave me alone when they see me wiping.

When I ditch the mop, and get back to my roots, either:
1. I am bonding with my Oma. She lived, and I grew up, in an old browstone. There were 10 apartments in her building, and each week one apartment was responsible for wiping down the stairwell. Yep, all flights of stairs and entry lobby. And don't you DARE not do it! My Oma was a neat freak. When she got older, I would take over her wiping when I visited. I would also wipe her floors where she did not have rugs.  I never used a mop until I got to the U.S., we did it with a bucket, and a rag :). Her picture hangs in my kitchen, and she is watching me with a smile on her face. I think we could have done surgery on her floors.

2. Need thinking time. When I scrub my kitchen floor, I think. The kitchen is "my place". It is the heart of the house, this is where I brew & stew, and this is where I go to ground. When I scrub that floor, I don't listen to music or talk, I just silently scrub & ponder.

When I am done, I feel happy. Yes, my knees hurt, as I am not 18 anymore, but it doesn't matter. I have tried to meditate for many years, completely failed. This is how I meditate. If I really need some grounding and simmer down time, I do the whole house (this is when the family flees).

I use hot water and vinegar, and throw in some essential oils and a few sprigs of rosemary. My favorite scents are rosemary, peppermint, lemon, lavender, or today I used Super Immune, a mix I purchased :). The EO's clear my mind as I scrub.

Before the floor dries, the dog trapses across it to say hello, and at least one child will instantly poof away if they don't immediately get some water or food. It is never ending :).

I always finish with a happy sigh and an ice cold brew. Perfect ending.

Much love,
Heike