Natalie Whatley

It’s an annual tradition for me to perform deeper-than-usual cleaning in tandem with packing away Christmas décor. This year I became June Cleaver, Good Housekeeping seal-of-approval scientist, and Jane Jetson . . . all rolled into one.  And I have the minty-fresh floors to prove it. Shoot, now all I need is one of those nifty Wonder Woman outfits.

Several years ago three young kids, their friends, and our household pets convinced me that carpet—especially of the light-colored variety—was not practical unless the lady of the house didn’t mind standing on constant guard and at the ready to clean potentially permanent stains.

At a not-so-small expense the lower floor of the Whatley Estate was transformed to something harder, darker, and multi-toned neutral.

I instantly fell in love. It’s the perfect camouflage for tracked in dirt and pet hair. Life and my general sense of well-being were greatly improved. Oh, and I nagged less.

However, my feet don’t like to be shoed. Nor do they like walking around on the fine grit that’s perfect for gathering the dog’s hair into a dust Sasquatch. (My accumulations are too large to just be “bunnies”.)

Those are most attractive stuck to the bottoms of my feet, but even worse they feel —let me scan my brain for a scientific term—yucky. For that reason I became the proud owner of roughly 40 pairs of flip flops. 

Life went on and my pseudo shoes bore the yuckiness while my soles lost all hope of being bare in the downstairs of their own home. Queue the sad violin music.

But then Christmas 2011 came and my grandmother, the lovely Ruby Watson, generously gifted me with the Mint Plus Automatic Floor Cleaner which sweeps and wet mops all by itself.

 I’m almost certain the lady who spent years as an Air Force wife —always at the ready for a white-glove inspection—was not making any sort of statement about my housekeeping prowess.

And recall that I was born in the wrong era and that technology is often the bane of my existence. I have a love/hate relationship with it. We tolerate each other on good days. So, I was skeptical of Mint as I’ve never personally known a robot or been a fan of gadgets.

Jeff removed him (why my mind assigned a gender is a question without an answer) from the box and plugged him into the electrical juice for charging.

For days I eyeballed Mint, who was sitting in the corner ready, willing, and able to make my life easier if only I’d allow him. (There’s a much broader statement made there. The males in my life are chortling, rolling their eyes and thinking, “how true!”, but that’s a story for another day.)

 Not one member of my household failed to ask, “When are we gonna use that thing?”

When I was good and ready. That was when.

Finally school was back in session and our routine back in place.

Mint and I were left all alone to get to know each other. I read his manual and learned exactly what buttons to push. By the way, I’m superb at button pushing.

Using North Star Navigation GPS technology Mint super quietly went all through my house doing his work. Much to my surprise he did it quite well.

For the first time in ages I meandered around barefooted.  Heavenly music played in my head  . . . to the hymn tune “It Is Well With My Soul”. It is well with my soles.  You’re an angel, Grandmother.

© 2012 Natalie Whatley

Tags: Mint Automatic Floor Cleaner