A steam mop is going to change my life. I know it is. I know because I read this blog post a year or two ago and since then I firmly belive that if I had a steam mop I would always have clean floors.

Having clean floors would mean that on weekend mornings I could come downstairs barefoot to make coffee to bring back to bed and drink as I read my book and while the children play quitely, happy in the knowledge that they are giving their dear mother a well-earned break. Because we don’t have a steam mop, I come down to make coffee, get annoyed that my feet are as crumbed a fishfinger, sweep the floor, do the dishwasher while I am at it, make the breakfast and intermittently sip a lukewarm coffee.

Having clean floors would mean that when Number Three drops his apple/rice cake/banana/cheese it could be whisked up off the floor and still be perfectly clean and suitable for human consumption. No waste of food. Because we don’t have a steam mop, said apple/rice cake/banana/cheese almost always has to be thrown out because it is black with dog hair and dirt from boots.

Having clean floors would mean I could implement that rule of not allowing shoes in the house. The floors would stay clean and people would marvel at how well I keep house despite work and children and a dog. Because we don’t have a steam mop I never remember to take off my own shoes, let alone remind anyone else to remove theirs. Dust and dirt gets traipsed around the house and there’s no keeping up with it.

After a good 18 months of mulling it over, the steam mop is ordered. It’ll arrive any day now. My life is about to change. I just know it.