Sorry Doesn’t Clean the Floor

wash hands

Do you know what’s bad about being an OCD clean freak? I can clean everything better than most. There are few who can rival my cleanliness one of them is my mother. That woman can clean. Did I ever tell you about the time she cleaned 40 year-old dirt out of grooves in a counter top? She’s impressive, but I digress.

Accidents happen. We knock over a two liter bottle of Coke onto the floor. We splash tomato soup, we spill coffee. We don’t do any of this on purpose. We didn’t set out to dump the juice just to see what would happen. But just because we didn’t mean to do it doesn’t mean the mess can be ignored. Someone has to clean it up and that someone is usually me.

When a glass goes over and it’s contents race across the kitchen table headed for the space where the center leaf meets the table top my wonderful, amazing family stares at it like a car accident in process. This only leads to the soda seeping though the seams and splashing on the floor. Experience keeps me calm in a cleaning crisis, so I’m the one who jumps up and dives in; paper towel at the ready. When the shock from the spilling accident wears off my guilty  loving, caring family member punctuates my wiping the floor on my hands and knees with, “Sorry.”

And they are. They truly are. They didn’t mean to pull me from my place at the table I just plopped down into after making a dinner I didn’t want to cook. You know I hate cooking. They didn’t mean to drag me away from my writing so I could clean up the juice they spilled. They really are sorry. I know how much they love me, appreciate how much I do for them, value my place in our fantastic family.

Yeah, well…

Sorry doesn’t clean the floor.

 

P.S. I’m launching a newsletter about my books, current and future works, and appearances along with fun activities for my younger readers. In November, there’s a holiday giveaway contest you won’t want to miss out on. I would love for you to sign up. All you have to do is click the newsletter image in the left side bar of the blog. You’ll be asked for your name and email address. Simple! No one will solicit you (and if they do you tell me and I’ll beat them up with a cannoli) and I promise the newsletter will only show up in your inbox 4 times a year. Thank you!!

 

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2 thoughts on “Sorry Doesn’t Clean the Floor

  1. Soon as I saw your title, I heard one of my favorite teachers telling the errant kindergartener: “Yeah, sorry doesn’t fix the lamp.” Out of nowhere last year, when that same kid was in 3rd grade, another student in the session probably said “sorry” to me about some repeat offense. I’m sure I told the first student that “sorry” is not an eraser. (It’s one of my go-to lines.) My 3rd grader (who has an adorable slight Columbian (?) accent) didn’t miss a beat. “Oh! You mean like ‘Sorry doesn’t fix the lamp?’

    And we think they’re not listening. Or getting it b/c they’re classified as “special ed.”

    When it comes to cleaning, You are most likely a far better Italian than I, my friend. 😉

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