Why Do Men Want A Porsche When A Bicycle Would Do The Job?

Gosh, even running shoes would suffice!

Just before Christmas lunch, our floors had a need to be cleaned and as luck would have it, I had to be out for work. Oh yes, luck indeed as I had to delegate the job to the only other person in our house...Bob.

Of course I wrapped the request into an undeniable way and told Bob that usually my back gets sore ( yes, really ) and it might be a good idea if he took over that part of the household chores. Marriage does mean sharing equally, doesn't it?

Bob has done the odd hoovering but never the wet thing. Even though he has seen me do it so often he must have been hypnotized somewhere along the line into " not-seeing " me clean the floors, because why else did he never offer to help?

So, I got all the equipement that one needs to clean the floor lined up for him and left with a cheery wave good bye. By equipment I mean a bucket of warm soapy water, an old fashioned broom and a floor cloth which has been ample for housewives throughout the centuries, including me. Just for good measure I put all the chairs around the kitchen table on top of it. Men do tend to be easily distracted and seeing the chairs in a different place would be a reminding nudge.

Anyway, I knew Bob would do the floor, but secretly I feared it to be an once-off affair, even though he had agreed to take over the floors from now on.

When I did get home a few hours later, the floors were sparkling because once men make up their mind to help they do so in spectacular fashion. Despite leaving Bob muttering to himself ( and I think I caught my name in it ), once I got home, he was smiling and proudly showed off his work. He must have really done a vigorous bout of cleaning because he was wiping a sweaty brow!

Anyway, I have learned when to drop a subject and wait it out. Well, while we were grocery shopping yesterday, Bob eschewed the Snack Isle for the Cleaning Isle, spending a long time in it and even called me over to inspect a fancy floor cleaner.

We almost had an eh, domestic fight in the isles, because I did't see the need to buy a fancy green plastic broom with some bits of material dangling at the bottom which need a special squeeze contraption and incidentally costs a fortune and will end up in a dusty corner. These things are more for show than glow.

I think that Bob was reminiscing about all those promotional stands he has walked passed in the past. You know the one, where a pretty lady clad in tight clothing shows off the wonders of the expensive equipment...and not just hers either!

Biggi