“Jessie, why’s the floor so slippery?”
Blame it on Kenny, Kenny Loggins that is.
“Footloose” is a song I’d have been happy to die without ever hearing again. It was so overplayed in the 80’s that the joy of hearing is long since gone. Now it just grates on my ears.
Not so for my two girls, both of whom will be dancing to the song at their annual recital. They’ve been hearing it over and over at rehearsals and, with iTunes capacity to “cherry-pick” the best songs, we now have it as a single on at least two of our family iPods.
Jessie was this past week listening to it at painful volumes while she did her chores in the kitchen.
Apparently, she was also practicing her dance moves, even while she was returning a one litre jug of cooking oil to its home in the pantry.
“I had the oil in my hand and at the end of the song I jumped up high, but didn’t notice the lid wasn’t on the jug until the oil was all over the floor…and the cabinet and my leg.”
For those of you who’ve never faced this dilemma, cooking oil, in quantity, it is very difficult to lift from the floor. Fortunately she only spilled a few millilitres, but the effect was no less profound.
I tried a bucket of hot water and a soapy mop. It raised a sheen on the floor, but made the slip even worse.
So, I sprinkled flour all over it in hopes of soaking it up, which dulled the sheen without enhancing grip.
“Jessie, take that old towel and see if you can wipe it up.”
She was happy to follow up and managed to bring the floor to a tolerable level of slippiness.
We did the work without backing music and without dancing, but also without ill will. The cause was just too funny.
We’re all now feeling a bit “footloose.”