What’s With The Swiffer?

This past weekend, I transmorghified from doctor to “Cute Patrol” officer.  The Empress went away to a scrapbook retreat…and I attempted to prevent fires, explosions, poisonings, drownings and any of a thousand other disasters 4 kids can cause.

These previous 7 years of doctor training demanded much of my time, so almost by default, Empress and I fell into traditional June and George Cleaver roles. Thus, I’ve done a good amount of bread-winning but not much cooking, cleaning, laundering…you know, house-type stuff.

swifSo you may imagine my surprise – really, my complete befuddlement – when I tried to mop the floor the other day and found not just a nice, traditional mop…but some contraption called a Swiffer.

A what?

A swiffer.  The thing comes in a kit.  Just to mop the dang floor.

People seem to think it’s a mop-upgrade.  The Blackbriar (See: Bourne Ultimatum) of the Home Ec set.  Subject the humble yarn or sponge on a stick to training in hand-to-hand combat, tactical driving and sharpshooting and you have your super-mop for the 21st century.

In my opinion, the thing is nothing more than a stick with a padded rectangular end.  The user then places pre-wet paper towel-like cloths over the end and uses them to wipe down the floor.

Annoyingly (and expensively) each swiffer sheet lasts for something close to 18…swifs. That’s it.  Then you need to re-swif your swiffer.  Our little kitchen floor took 5 swiff sheets…and that’s only because I resented using another 2 sheets on such a small floor.

R. I. P. Dear Friend
R. I. P. Dear Friend

I don’t consider myself an old-fashioned guy.  I blog.  I recently put some tunes on my iPod.  I even drop in at Facebook once in awhile.  I’m not closet Amish or wistfully longing for those throw-back days of Planet of the Apes.  But I do fondly remember the days when a little water, a tiny bit of PineSol in the sink, and a cheap sponge on a stick would clean vast square feet of kitchen floors.

Alas, the Empress has returned, displeased at such anachronistic longings.  Let it be known that the Swiffer shall stay, and I will return to making the money that buys those continually-diminishing swiffer sheets.  My irreverent and ignorant questions about how to best clean a house shall be overlooked…this time.