THE DUST UP

For the last few days my sinuses have been on fire. It feels like I've inhaled a pool full of chlorinated water - and not the baby pool, but the big pool.
I can't stop sneezing.
My eyes feel like they have razor blades embedded under the lids.
My nose goes from completely stopped up to running so badly I carry paper towels in my pockets. Yes paper towels, because tissues just aren't substantial enough. Pretty picture, huh?
And evidently I swallowed a feather sometime Saturday night because I can't get rid of that tickle in my throat.

Because I've been suffering the worst head cold ever (because MY colds are always worse than anybody else's) I haven't told you about my new dust mop. So I'm going to do that today. And if you're lucky, tomorrow I'll tell you about my new dish towels.

So.

I've been wanting a new dust mop for quite some time. I like my plain old dust mop, but it's broken. Every time I shake the dust off of it, the head falls off and then I have to reassemble it while I mumble and grumble. But I want a new one just like it - a plain old dust mop. The kind my mom and grandma used.

The kind Aunt Bea used.

I do not like a Swiffer, because I don't like to add a fresh cloth each time I want to clean my floor and then remove the dirty cloth when I'm done. I don't want to change a dust mop diaper when my floor needs to be cleaned.

I found a new fangled dust mop a few months ago but nothing clung to it. It simply moved everything around and let all the dust bunnies fall to the floor. That, I believe, is called a broom; it should not be marketed as a dust mop.

Last week, I went to Menard's determined to find a plain old dust mop.

And it was in the mop aisle at Menard's that my early onset Alzheimer's reared it's ugly head.

First of all, there were no plain old dust mops, so I picked one up that had a large rectangular head on it, which I decided would be nice for the staircase. It looked like it would pick up lots of dust. Funny thing, the handle was quite short - like about 3 feet long.

Hmmm.

I took it off the rack and held it by the very tippy top of the handle and "dusted" the floor at Menard's, experimenting with the short handle.

Why would it have such a short handle?

Is it better for my posture?

Is it ergonomically correct?

It didn't have "CHILD'S DUST MOP" on the label.

I decided I could try it, despite it's very strange handle. After all, who am I to doubt the scientific advances of dust moppery?

It was while I was putting the dust mop in my cart that I actually read the label and saw "handle expands to 62 inches."

OOOOHHHHHH! Now I get it.

So then.

I came home, more eager than ever to search for dust bunnies. I expanded the handle and started to swish swish swish my new toy across the dining room floor.

Only to have the handle collapse back to its original child size length.

And because evidently I don't learn very quickly, I repeated this exercise about four times, getting the same results each time.

Swish swish swish, collapse.
Swish swish swish, collapse.

Finally, I went to the garbage can and dug out the label and actually read the directions.

That's right. I had to read directions on how to operate a dust mop. My self esteem was taking a real beating that day.

Turns out I was operating it correctly, which relieved me greatly. It is nice to know my college education was not a complete waste. It appears, though, that my expandable dust mop handle is just a little loose and cannot withstand the swishing pressure of dusting my hardwood floor.

Because I didn't buy a service warranty on my dust mop and didn't want to call a repair man, I did something that will make my husband extremely proud. I taped the handle in place with black electrical tape.

Now I not only have my new dust mop; but it looks really classy too.