An Ode to Hoover

My steam cleaner - not the President.

Oh how I love thee

Let me count the ways-

You help me clean up poop that has been smeared all over my carpet

Do I really need a second reason to profess my love for my steam cleaner? I think that one reason sums it up quite profoundly.

A little boy that I was babysitting pooped and then decided that he needed to stick his hand into his diaper, grab some poop out and then use it to finger paint my carpet. ajfoidpahnfgvlsojgdvdaz (sorry, I just gagged a little at the memory) He also decided that my piano was entirely too clean and needed to be used as a poopy canvas as well. I literally cried when I saw the piano, great big tearful sobs. Just ask Nathan. I was on the phone with him at the time. It felt as though something sacred had just been desecrated.

I'm really not upset with the boy, after all he's just a little kid. He didn't know that what he was doing was the grossest thing ever. Truthfully, I love him. He is a real sweetheart. A handful, but a sweetheart. This whole experience, while disgusting, left me with a great love and appreciation for a few things, namely:

disinfectant

stain remover

my steam cleaner

disinfectant

air freshener

hot water

disinfectant

copious amounts of antibacterial hand soap

and more disinfectant

I can't imagine life without those things. It just wouldn't smell as good or be as inhabitable. Seriously, without them, I think we might have had to move out of this house.