I see a very clean house

I’m at the beginning of a new relationship so I’m suffering from the jitters, can’t always think straight, a bit bubbly, and happy.
Can’t beat that.
We met at the hardware store, not the likeliest of places. A storm was coming and I wanted to stock up on a few things in preparation for hunkering down to ride out a January blast.
I was in the cleaning supplies aisle—the one filled with great plans and good intentions. We collided, actually; I lost my balance and fell onto a shelf and, well, it was love at first sight.
The Ultimate Spin Mop and I were meant to be together. We are a match made in Heaven. I always have big plans to clean and The Ultimate Spin Mop promises things I only can imagine, both founded on a great deal of hope.
I have coveted this mop for years—the idea of such a perfect match, a deep understanding of one another—and there it was right in front of me (or underneath me, in this case, after I fell).
And before I could change my mind, I snatched it up; rushing through the check-out and home before the blizzard hit.
I’ve left “Ultimate” in its box in the mudroom. When I open my eyes first thing in the morning, “Ultimate” is there in my head. I smile coyly at it on my way outside with “Gracie,” tucking my hair behind my ears and trying not to blush.
Some mornings I rush to the mudroom to be sure it’s still there; hasn’t run off in the night with a change of heart or someone else hasn’t offered it a better home than mine.
I admire its shiny red box, shrink-wrapped and tidy. I read all its credits on the outside of the box and it is an impressive list. I lean on it while I’m pulling on my boots, trying out that personal risky business of trust.
“Ultimate” represents a promise. And we’ll take it slow, though in some moments I want to rip open the box and spin around the edges of my house, cleaning madly.
But I wait. Can’t rush these things; not something this important.
I’ve had relationships in the past that didn’t pan out. The 3-for-1 mops I bought at Costco? Huge disappointment, though they looked pretty all grouped together with their big moppy heads made of soft white whatever and a reasonable price.
I wanted to scrub the outside of my house, to make it new again, and these mops were a terrible letdown. I should have known better; there were lots of warning signs (i.e., no instructions, not a hint of a promise).
Luckily, my neighbour coveted them so I passed them on to her. She was none-the-wiser. I was glad to be rid of them and wished my neighbour well.
There also was the fiasco with the squeeze mop; just didn’t work out. I gave it the old college try, but in the end it just left a lot of water lying about and pushed the dirt around, and changing heads was so awkward and cumbersome.
I swore off mops for a long time, inspired to go it alone with just my wits and a sturdy rag and scrub pail—proclaiming my independence and shouting about doing it my way, breaking into song as it were.
But the Ultimate Spin Mop has pulled me back in with its streamlined design; a prototype built from a lot of experience of scrubbing floors and other dirty surfaces (i.e., it had to get dirty, had to get knocked around a bit, before it could be this shining example of cleaning expertise).
I’m sure we’ll get it right. I can’t wait to try.
I see a very clean house in my future.