I didn’t know I wanted it until I got it.
If I was a different person, I might get excited about a new piece of jewellery or even a night out at a health spa (actually, I do get excited about any time spent at a spa), but here I am, stomach a-flutter, itching to get my hands on the new mop.
I had used this particular beauty at my son’s place a few months ago.
It was there I realised several things. One: more modern houses are quicker to clean. And two: even cleaning devices evolve.
I think I’m top of the tree when it comes to vacuum cleaners. I have a Dyson and I feel a bit special every time I use it. I can’t say I love to vacuum, but I can say I don’t hate it either.
I put this down to the fact that the cleaning device in question is light and cordless and can whip around most places gathering all sorts of stuff without much argy-bargy.
But then I visit my son’s house and there is the latest in the Dyson cleaners, with a light at the front that highlights any and all the bits that are missed. This is a device I do not want. Without it, I can kid myself that most of the dust has been collected.
But I have completely digressed because it is what comes after that I have been coveting and now own.
And that is the mop. His is a mop that has a tube body with a spray thingy on it. This simplistic design dispenses with buckets of water and conveniently sprays the bit in front of the mop before it is mopped.
It certainly beats the clumpy old wring-outable mop that I slosh around.
My son recently gave me a mop like his. For reasons only a good psychologist would understand, it is still in its packaging. Every time I go into the laundry, its large mop head and empty cylinder beckon me to move into the modern cleaning world.
Perhaps I am scared of ruining what must be the archangel of mops.
I should use it before some bright spark decides to put a light on the front of it.