Mopping the Floor

I had a dream I mopped the floor. If only that were enough.

I don't mop. At least not the old fashioned way.

And that's the one definitive "I don't ____" statement I've heard myself make over the years, at least the only one I can think of. And yet it needs to be done.

And as I write "it needs to be done," I realize it only needs to be done because I think it should be done. It also occurs to me that I could hire somebody to do it. But that almost feels like too much work. And a waste of money since it'll only take me 5 to 10 minutes. Perhaps I'll just mop the floor.

I'm house-sitting and promised the place would be cleaner than how they left it. Apparently they don't mop either, or maybe just didn't have time this time. So I thought this would be something nice to do, to surprise them with super clean floors.

So although I don't mop, I went out and bought one. Not the kind that requires a bucket. I absolutely do not do that.

Maybe I just never learned the proper technique, but it always seemed to me I was making the floor dirtier, just pushing around dirty water. So I bought a steam mop instead. It's been lying on the floor by the front door, still in its package, for about 10 days now. I look at it and wonder what my resistance is. Just take it out of the package and mop the fucking floor. I've even used a steam mop before; I know it's easy. But I don't want to do it. Maybe now that I've admitted to that, I will. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about how I either ruined the hardwood floors with this mop, or laughed at myself for putting it off for so long.

I don't really know why I'm writing about this.

Perhaps just to get myself blogging again. Or perhaps because there's something deeper at play here. Something about taking on a task I don't really want to take on? Something about taking on a task I do really want to take on? Something about sometimes just wishing that my dreams or thoughts would manifest just like that, without the necessary effort or discomfort? For example, I've written numerous books in my head, while driving, lying in bed, going for walks. But those books don't really get written unless I sit down and write.  So although this thought this morning about dreaming I mopped and wishing it were enough may not seem important, or worthy of writing about, and may not have any place in a book, taking this time to sit down and write it out is part of my practice of being the writer that I am.  To not evaluate a topic's worth. To not just think about writing. To not just want to be a writer. But to be one. Even if it means posting a seemingly meaningless blog entry about mopping the floor.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.