Last Saturday night, my sister, Clarissa, decided to wax the floor. So at about 10:30 in the night, she starts to wax. I was actually out watching my brother basketball tournament, so we come home tired and read for bed to find her standing with a mop, waxing the floor. Random.
She got done, and she ended up in the family room with a mop and bucket in her hand. The mop and bucket do not go in the family room. They go in the laundry room, which is directly across the newly waxed floor. She stands there for a moment. Huh. Wasn’t very good planning. So she finally goes outside with the mop, around through the garage, and comes out in the laundry room. Then she pokes her head in the kitchen and asks, “Do I need to rinse the mop?”
She decides she does need to rinse the mop, and I tell her to climb over the counter tops, but she isn’t that acrobatic. She just inches around the edge of the kitchen, trying not to place her feet on the wax.
That was over. She comes back around. I tell her to go get the mail, but she says I have to watch her in the dark to make sure nothing bad happens. I watch her. She runs to the mailbox. She comes in.
So I’m standing, looking at the dining room and the kitchen, and I realize that the lights are on. We are going to bed. We need to turn off the lights.
Clarissa goes back around to turn off the kitchen light, which easy. But the light switch for the dining room is halfway across the waxed floor.
At first, I try to balance vicariously on the bottom shelf of a bookshelf, but as I’m clinging to the edges, I know it won’t work. I get it off it, and then we take a share, place it in the middle of the dining room, under the light where we can pull a chain, and I perform graceful acrobatics and turn off the light.
This is why you should always wax at 10:30 on a Saturday night. It makes life more fun.