Ours is a Forbidden Love

Mr. Monkeysparkets walks into the kitchen while I am Swiffering and wrinkles his nose.


“That stuff stinks”

I blink fast.

“What did you just say??”
“I said that stuff stinks. It smells like rotten oranges.”


A few moments of stunned silence go by. Eventually I ask in a small voice,


“Does it bother you?”
“What?”
“The Swiffer. Does the smell really bother you?”
“Nah. It goes away after a while.”
“Oh, good.”


He raises an eyebrow.

“Honey, if you had to choose between me and the Swiffer…”
“Never ask me that question.”
“Fine. But if I come home and find it in the bedroom, I am not going to be OK with that.”

People? I am in loooooove.

I know it’s wrong, but I just couldn’t help myself. One look at this shiny purple paragon of cleanliness and I was smitten:












Am I the only one out there that gets inappropriately tingly when presented with a new cleaning gadget? No? That’s OK. If loving my Swiffer is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. I've put off buying one of these babies for a long time because I heard that rumor about the cleaning solution containing antifreeze. Snopes says that this is false. I just hosed down our silverware and all the kids' teething toys with it, so I'll let you know.


For those of you who don't know me, I tend to get a little obsessive when I really like something, so you'll probably be seeing more that a few future posts dedicated to this sweet magical contraption. Swiffer fanfic, anyone?



Oh my gosh, I will give a bright shiny nickle to anyone who can come up with a Swiffer fanfic. Bonus points for incorporating any of the following:

Let's Dish!
Joss Whedon or any element of any of the Whedonverses
the dancing old guy from the Six Flags commercials
Jon and Kate Plus 8
Jordan Catalano

Ready? Set? Go!